Andrew Rivers and the Legend of the Stone
by KennyQ
Summary: Andrew Rivers is an intelligent young pureblood Ravenclaw, who lives in Number 17, Magnolia Road in Little Whinging due to his father being an undercover Auror. On June of 1991, he meets Harry Potter, a young bespectacled boy who is known as the Boy Who Lived on his cousin Dudley's birthday. Little both know that this meeting may change their lives for the good or the worse...
1. Chapter 1 - A Silent December Chase

**Andrew Rivers and the Legend of the Stone**

 **Hello!~ KennyQ here after a long hiatus on Fanfiction! Sorry I didn't finish my other story _Silent Secrets of Inaba_ but maybe I may finish it after I finish this work series placed on the Harry Potter universe. The story has been taking form in my head for the past month during the dark days during Hurricane Maria's passing through the island of Puerto Rico and here I present you the first chapter! Enjoy and please review!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (or anybody else in this story except for the Rivers family) This chapter is based on JK Rowling's "Prequel", written in 2008.**

 _Chapter 1 – A Silent December Chase_

It was a cold December night. It was two days before New Year's Eve of 1980. A speeding motorcycle took the sharp corner so fast in the darkness that the three policemen in the pursuing car shouted "Whoa!" Sergeant Fisher slammed his large foot on the brake, trying not to skid and crash on the pavement and thinking that the boy who was riding pillion was sure to be flung under his wheels under the snow; however, the motorbike made the turn without unseating either of its riders, and with a wink of its red tail light, vanished up the narrow side street.

"We've got 'em now!" cried PC Anderson excitedly. "That's a dead end!"

Leaning hard on the steering wheel and crashing his gears, Fisher scraped half the paint off the flank of the car as he forced it up the alleyway in pursuit. Anthony Rivers, the new recruit of the local police force looked warily at their surroundings. Young Mr. Rivers joined the police force three months previously. But Mr. Rivers had a secret. He was an undercover Auror, a magical law enforcer of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who was directed by Bartemius Crouch, Sr. at the time. He went undercover to investigate a series of attacks caused by Death Eaters. That night it was the first outdoor investigation, which came out as fruitless until they encountered this odd commotion.

There in the headlights sat their quarry, stationary at last after a quarter of an hour's chase. The two riders were trapped between a towering brick wall and the police car, which was now crashing towards them like some growling, luminous-eyed predator. There was so little space between the car doors and the walls of the alley that Fisher and Anderson had difficulty extricating themselves from the vehicle. It injured their dignity to have to inch, crab-like, towards the miscreants. Fisher dragged his generous belly along the wall, tearing buttons off his shirt as he went, and finally snapping off the wing mirror with his backside.

"Get off the bike!" he bellowed at the smirking youths, who sat basking in the flashing blue light as though enjoying it.

They did as they were told. Finally pulling free from the broken wind mirror, Fisher glared at them. They seemed to be in their late teens. The one who had been driving had long black hair; his insolent good looks reminded Fisher unpleasantly of his daughter's guitar-playing, layabout boyfriend. The second boy also had black hair, though his was short and stuck up in all directions; he wore glasses and a broad grin. Both were dressed in T-shirts emblazoned with a large golden bird; the emblem, no doubt, of some deafening, tuneless rock band. Agent Rivers suddenly noted the situation but he stayed silent. He just let the situation to unfurl by itself.

"No helmets!" Fisher yelled, pointing from one uncovered head to the other. "Exceeding the speed limit by - by a considerable amount!" (In fact, the speed registered had been greater than Fisher was prepared to accept that any motorcycle could travel.) "Failing to stop for the police!"

"We'd have loved to stop for a chat," said the boy in glasses, "only we were trying —"

"Don't get smart - you two are in a heap of trouble!" snarled Anderson. "Names!"

"Names?" repeated the long-haired driver. "Er — well, let's see. There's Wilberforce . . . Bathsheba . . . Elvendork . . ."

"And what's nice about that one is, you can use it for a boy or a girl," said the boy in glasses.

"Oh, _our_ names, did you mean?" asked the first, as Anderson spluttered with rage. "You should've said! This here is James Potter, and I'm Sirius Black!"

Agent Rivers snapped into attention. "Potter and Black?" he thought. Of all the people who he could've encountered, it had to be these two. "Things'll be seriously black for you in a minute, you cheeky little —"

But neither James nor Sirius was paying attention. They were suddenly as alert as gundogs, staring past Fisher, Rivers and Anderson, over the roof of the police car, at the dark mouth of the alley. Then, with identical fluid movements, they reached into their back pockets. For the space of a heartbeat both policemen imagined guns gleaming at them, but a second later they saw that the motorcyclists had drawn nothing more than —

"Drumsticks?" jeered Anderson. "Right pair of jokers, aren't you? Right, we're arresting you on a charge of —". But Anderson never got to name the charge. Anthony confirmed his worse suspicions at that instant. "Really, these two couldn't be more than a bunch of idiots… Risking the Statute of Secrecy…" he mumbled to himself. James and Sirius had shouted something incomprehensible, and the beams from the headlights had moved.

The policemen wheeled around, then staggered backwards. Three men were flying - actually _flying_ \- up the alley on broomsticks - and at the same moment, the police car was rearing up on its back wheels. Fisher's knees bucked; he sat down hard; Anderson tripped over Fisher's legs and fell on top of him, as _flump — bang — crunch_ — they heard the men on brooms slam into the upended car and fall, apparently insensible, to the ground, while broken bits of broomstick clattered down around them. Anthony felt his own wand in his pocket, but he decided not to take it out.

The motorbike had roared into life again. His mouth hanging open, Fisher mustered the strength to look back at the two teenagers.

"Thanks very much!" called Sirius over the throb of the engine. "We owe you one!"

"Yeah, nice meeting you!" said James. "And don't forget: Elvendork! It's unisex!"

There was an earth-shattering crash, and Fisher and Anderson threw their arms around each other in fright; their car had just fallen back to the ground. Now it was the motorcycle's turn to rear. Before the policemen's disbelieving eyes, it took off into the air: James and Sirius zoomed away into the night sky, their tail light twinkling behind them like a vanishing ruby.

Fisher and Anderson, both deeply shocked, sat on the floor watching the departing motorcycle. Meanwhile, Rivers went behind the police car and started checking who the three people who crashed onto the car were. He noticed the unusual but recognizable clothing. Black robes, and a skull mask. Definitely these were Death Eaters. He extracted his wand from his uniform and shot a silent Stupefy to each of the Death Eaters, tied them up with a quick Incarcerous and Disillusioned them.

"We should call it a night, guys. It's nearly 1 a.m." said Rivers to the other two. Fisher snapped out of it, pulled Anderson to a standing position and they went into the damaged police car. "The Inspector won't be very glad to see the state of this vehicle in the morning" sighed Fisher. For the next twenty minutes they drove downtown to their police station. Anderson went on his car back to his home, still shaken by what had transpired earlier. Fisher, on the other hand stayed to file a report. Rivers quickly extracted his wand and sent a quick Confundus Charm towards him, just to be on the safe side.

He then wandered to a nearby alley, and transfigured his normal muggle police uniform back to his Auror uniform. He then sprinted four blocks back to the street where they encountered Potter and Black. He removed the Disillusionment Charm and quickly held the ropes holding the three Death Eaters and Apparated away. A couple of minutes later, he reached the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, where he found the Aurors Alastor Moody, Rufus Scrimgeour and Amelia Bones waiting for him.

"So, captured three more of these whelps raggling on the Muggle world eh, lad?" grunted Moody.

"Yes sir, found them four blocks south of the station I am currently working. They were chasing two unidentified teens. They crashed against the police car and while my other two companions dealt with the kids, I stunned and tied these guys up. They are definitely Death Eaters", said Rivers calmly.

"They don't seem to be high ranking Death Eaters though", pointed out Auror Bones. "But at least we're cleaning the streets of this scum that is scouring the land."

"Great job Auror Rivers. You are dismissed. Auror Bones, let us take these two to the Ministry cells to interrogation as quick as possible." Scrimgeour and Bones took them towards the elevator. Moody stayed looking at Rivers impatiently. "So, who were they chasing then, Rivers? It didn't sound like if they were chasing Muggles."

"They were after Potter and Black, sir." answered Rivers in a slightly irritated tone. "Those two were on a motorcycle, no doubt that it's Black's… And we chased them while on our night patrol on that area. I swear, those two don't seem to have an ounce of logic between them. Nearly breaking the Statute of Secrecy, using magic in front of Muggles, it's a bloody miracle that I didn't say nothing about who the Death Eaters were chasing or those two would be out of the Auror program faster than you can recite the twelve uses of dragon's blood."

"Aye, lad. I'll have a word with them soon. Just three years fresh out of Hogwarts and they are acting recklessly. They don't think of the consequences. Unlike them, you have a good head on your shoulders." Moody checked the watch in the Atrium and saw that it was nearly 2 o' clock in the morning. "Well, I must be leaving. Remember Rivers, watch your hid and _CONSTANT VIGILANCE!_ ", said Moody.

"Yes sir, always on the lookout.", replied Rivers. Moody clunked towards the nearest fireplace and Flooed out of the Ministry. Rivers went and did the same. When he reached his home on number 17, Magnolia Road in Little Whinging, he was greeted by his wife Janice Rivers neé Summerby, carrying her two year old boy Andrew, who was soundly asleep on her shoulder.

"Hi dear, how was tonight's patrol?" said Janice as she kissed her husband.

"Tiring Janice… I captured three Death Eaters today. But guess who they were following?" said Anthony in hushed voices.  
"Who?" said Janice surprised. "They were following Potter and Black, who were on that flying motorcycle of the latter. I swear those two aren't thinking straight. They still think they're the pranking lords of Hogwarts, I swear…" sighed Anthony. Janice nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, they were a year under mine. Thank Merlin you weren't on Gryffindor with them because us in Gryffindor couldn't manage their hijinks too much."

"They still pranked mostly everyone, though. Remember in my seventh year when they transfigured my old Potions book into a parrot and the damn thing flew off? I was so mad at them because I needed that book to finish the midterm NEWT essay for Slughorn. At least old Sluggy had spare ones or I would've been in serious trouble."

Janice smiled at the memory that the Hufflepuff had recounted. The poor parrot book was seen all day flying through the grounds until it vanished into the Forbidden Forest. Then she yawned and spoke. "Anthony, we should go back to bed. I'll put Andy in his crib and we can sleep in tomorrow. My sisters are coming to help me with the New Year's party preparatives at three." She went and deposited the boy in his crib, tucked him in and she went to their bedroom to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2 - The First Encounter

**Chapter 2 – The First Encounter**

 **Author Note: I present thee chapter 2! I will try to post the chapters as soon I finish them, but as I said in the previous AN, internet connectivity in Puerto Rico is very weak so I cannot promise a specific upload date due to it. I want to give a warm thanks to _sarahgri99_ , _Kallanit_ , _kronecker2017_ , _skyjadeprincess_ , _TrAfAlGaRlAwSgUrL27_ , _Bordeaux Lady_ and _TheWhiteFang597_ for following/favorite my story, to _Ravenspire_ to be the first reviewer, and to _Fire The Canon_ for the invite to the challenge forums! It makes me very glad that many people seem interested in the fic and I will try my best to not let anyone down.**

 **Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Potterverse. I only own the Rivers family and some filler characters.**

Nearly ten years had passed since Anthony Rivers had encountered Sirius Black and James Potter on the motorcycle being chased by Death Eaters. Less than year after that event, he had woken up to find that the Dark Lord that has been terrorizing Britain, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, had fallen on Halloween of 1981, murdering the Potters before his apparent demise at the hands of the son of James and Lily Potter, Harry Potter. The boy vanished the same day without trace.

Many pureblooded families, especially the Malfoys asked of the boy's whereabouts but it was impossible. Number 17 on Magnolia Road had little changes for the past ten years. The sun rose on the tidy and beautiful front garden. The photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed.

Nine years ago, there had been only pictures of Anthony and Janice carrying their two year old Andrew. Now, Andrew was eleven years old. The boy was 5'5", chubby face and body, his brown, slightly unkempt hair and the caramel brown eyes he had from his mother. In 6 months' time, he will be leaving towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had a younger brother called Anthony Rivers Jr., obviously named after their father. Andrew and Anthony Jr. differed by four years. He was small and pudgy, with slightly curly hair and also had his mother's color of eyes.

Andrew was headed to the nearby primary school, about to start the Easter term. Usually, Andrew, or Andy, as his parents would call him, would go to class and on his free time, he would visit the nearby library. That day, during lunch, he sat outside and ate the tuna sandwich his mother packed before she went to work in Diagon Alley. When he finished and started to walk back to class early he noticed a huddle of students around someone who was thrown in the floor.

He walked towards them and saw a scrawny, bespectacled boy in the floor, glasses knocked askew, and with a bleeding face. Four others were laughing impishly. He recognized them, it was the usual gang of bullies that roamed the playground near his house: Gordon, Malcolm, Piers and the Dursley boy who lived three streets away.

"What are you four doing?" asked Andrew menacingly, glaring scarily over his glasses. He learned this trick from his father, which he used on criminals. "Oh, erm… nothing at all, Rivers" answered squeakily Dudley Dursley, clearly stunned for being caught red-handed. The others started to look panicked, looking ways to escape. No one has tried to go against him due to his father being a renowned policeman.

"Well, apparently it doesn't seem like so, Dursley. Maybe a quick report to the headmistress will do the trick." Andrew said smirking. Dudley panicked, but he tried to stop and confront Andrew. "He deserved what he got, Rivers. You don't have to go and tattle to the headmistress." He pushed Andrew back and he fell to the floor also. Dudley and his gang started to laugh again. Andrew got very mad and some odd blow of wind shuffled over him and suddenly, Dudley got knocked away like if a rhino had trampled him and fell a couple of feet away, nearly squashing the skinny boy.

Dudley, quickly stood up, looking flabbergasted at the boy, at Andrew and then at his friends and they all ran (or in Dudley's case, waddling like a penguin) back inside. Andrew then stood up, walked to the other boy and helped him up. "Are you alright, kid?" Andrew asked carefully. The boy quickly nodded and mumbled "M'fine…" Andrew looked at him oddly and then asked "Why Dudley Dursley and his band of shaved baboons were hitting you? Do you know him?"

"He's my cousin. They usually beat me up and chase me to play their favorite game." Andrew frowned deeply. "So, what's your name?" inquired Andrew. "My name is Harry Potter, nice to meet you." Andrew, looking very surprised, and with his mouth formed into a perfect O-shape and his eyes went to his forehead where he saw a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt and spoke after the impression. "Uh, my name is Andrew Rivers. I live in Number 17, Magnolia Road."

"You don't live so far from us, we live in Number 4 Privet Drive." Harry said, intrigued by Andrew's reaction to his name. Andrew and Harry headed towards the school, leaving the latter in front of his classroom door before going to his classroom. "Dad'll want to know about this… Harry Potter, living with Muggles…" Andrew muttered to himself, sitting down on his chair.

That night, Mr. Rivers came back early from his shift at the police department. They were in the middle of their dinner when Andrew cleared his voice and spoke. "Dad, you won't believe what I discovered today at school." His father raised an eyebrow and passed a bowl to Janice, who was trying to make his younger brother eat some vegetables. "What did you discover today, Andy?" Andrew hyped up a bit and spoke really fast "Harrypotterisatmyschoolandlivesnearby".

Janice glared lightly at her son. "Don't garble the sentence Andy. Speak more clearly!" Anthony Jr. giggled at his older brother's antics. Andrew glared at him and recited slowly "Harry Potter is at my school and lives nearby!" Anthony's knife slipped off his hand and clattered on the table, Janice's mouth was agape, but Anthony Jr. asked quite excited, with a grin so big that it wouldn't fit on his face if bigger. "The Boy-Who-Lived is at your school?! Wicked!" Mr. Rivers' started expression changed to one of doubt. "Harry Potter living in a muggle residential area? How is that possible?" He would definitely look into this.

* * *

 _Six months later…  
_

Andrew was waiting excited on front of his Father's old car, waiting to be taken to King's Cross. He was finally going to Hogwarts! Both his father and mother asked for a day off to see their firstborn go to Hogwarts. The previous week, they went to Diagon Alley to buy his school equipment, the school robes bought on Madam Malkin's, where Janice was Madam Malkin's assistant for the past 8 years, his new pet owl called Odin, a large black barn owl, and specially, his wand. His wand was made of black walnut and phoenix feather, fourteen inches and a half long, and according to Garrick Ollivander, it had a hard capability.

He waited that his mother could finally get Anthony Jr. (or little Tony as she called him to avoid confusions whilst calling them) hold of him to finish dressing him. It was still 9:30 am of September 1st, 1990. His dad placed the school trunk on the car's trunk. Andy, meanwhile, was reading very interestedly the books that were asked for Potions: _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger and had nearby the book assigned for Herbology called _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore to revise some of the ingredients' properties.

Five minutes later, they were reaching King's Cross. Mr. Rivers parked the car in a nearby parking lot and then procured a trolley for his trunk and Odin's cage. Andrew pushed the trolley nervously and reached towards the wall between platforms 9 and 10, the magical way to reach Platform 9 ¾, where the Hogwarts Express was stationed. He hugged and kissed his mother, hugged his father, who ruffled his hair and gave a noogie to Tony on his head. He boarded the train bound to Hogwarts with a large smile on his face. He spent most of the train ride reading the books he had out since that morning.'

That evening, they reached Hogwarts. Andrew trooped down the train and followed the voice that cried "Firs' years over 'ere!" He suddenly bumped into a gigantic man, clearly two or three times as tall and many times wide than he was. "Sorry 'bout that, mister.", he excused himself. "S'fine, young one. What's your name?" the giant man asked. "Andrew, Andrew Rivers." He brought a hand to shake the man's ginormous one. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper o' this fine institution." Hagrid smiled broadly and when every first year came around him, they went through a dirt path leading to the lakeside. "No more than for ter a boat!"

Andrew shared the ride with an Asian girl, a girl who seemed to be her friend, who had curly, red hair and a skinny boy with dark hair and slightly buck-toothed.

When they reached the other side towards the boathouse, after they saw the grandiosity and magnificence of the castle while riding the boat, they walked to the castle's front door, where a tall, stern woman was waiting for them. She presented herself as Professor McGonagall, transfiguration mistress of the school and Head of Gryffindor House. Immediately, in the entrance hall, she explained briefly about the basic rules and the houses and made them follow her towards the right, where the Great Hall was found.

Andrew was so distracted he nearly crashed into someone in front of him. Suddenly, Professor McGonagall brought a rickety old stool and placed a very old wizard hat, with many patches and fixes that you couldn't count at a brief notice. The Sorting Hat started to sing a song about the school history, but he didn't pay much attention. He was absorbing everything he was seeing at the moment. Then, Professor McGonagall grabbed the hat and she called from a scroll the names of the students in alphabetical order.

"Bell, Katie!" called Professor McGonagall. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head and the hat cried "GRYFFINDOR!" The farthest right table shouted and clapped in glee that they got the first student to their house. Professor McGonagall then called "Chang, Cho!" in which she got sorted into Ravenclaw. After her, a tall, lanky, yet good-looking boy walked after calling "Daniels, Jeremiah!" and became the first male Ravenclaw. "Edgecombe, Marietta" was called and also was sorted to Ravenclaw. A smug-looking boy by the name of Cormac McLaggen walked towards the stool with a swagger and sat down and was directly sorted to Gryffindor in less than a few seconds. A pale boy named Mark Newell and his cousin Jessica went to Hufflepuff. They ran through all the other names until "Rivers, Andrew!" came up. Andrew meekly walked towards Professor McGonagall and sat down. The Hat went nearly completely down, covering nearly to his nose, and tilting his glasses askew.

"Hmmm, curious… The son of Anthony Rivers, one of the most prominent Aurors in this decade... How interesting. Where shall I put you?" The Hat started to whisper. "Definitely not Slytherin or Gryffindor for sure. I seem to be stuck in between Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. You are both very well knowledgeable and also very, very loyal." The Hat continued to compare, and contrast where he could fit better, until it reached his verdict. "Young man, I know now where to put you… RAVENCLAW!" He walked eagerly to the blue and bronze table while a bespectacled girl called Sharleen Travers became the last person to be sorted to Slytherin.

* * *

 _Eight months later…_

Andrew sat on a solitary table that was well hidden in the library, doing his essays for Transfiguration and Charms after finishing the Astronomy charts. Andrew had risen to be one of the 5 highest scoring first years of the entering class. So far, his best class is Potions, in which Professor Snape had a great suspicion that Andrew was nothing short of a prodigy. He'd never seen such excellent work ethic since he assisted school himself. His potions were prepared in so perfect that Professor Snape was deeply impressed had offered him to give him occasional extra lessons Saturdays afternoons, just after they exited Double Herbology classes. He completed the assignments satisfactorily and went back to Ravenclaw's Common Room.

A month later, he took the final exams for his first year. He ranked first on the Potions exam, in the top three in Charms, Herbology and Transfiguration, seventh in Astronomy and Defense Against the Dark Arts (although the DADA professor, Professor Walters had been stuck in St. Mungo's since before Easter because of a stray spell which left him in a sort of coma.) and the lowest class he ranked was History of Magic, who he was the exact middle score of the whole year. He estimated that he was between the fifth to the ninth place, in which at least he did estimate correctly because he finished seventh, scraping it by two points. Once again, Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup for the year. Gryffindors were fuming they was stuck with a third place within the House Cup. Ravenclaw lost managed a third place in the Quidditch cup, but second in the House Cup Competition. The next day, the train departed towards London. Little he suspected that the next day, he would meet again the boy with the lightning scar.


	3. Chapter 3 - Meeting the Rivers

_Chapter 3 – Meeting the Rivers_

 **Author's Note: Here's the third chapter, fresh out of the oven! A quick shout-out to the new story followers: _Nanettez_ , _mjeffrey416_ , _sweetkitty_ , _chauntcyab_ , _Skillz x Blaze_ , _jiubantai-taichoCalmejaneJose_ , _Mattsbaby_ , _Daphne Li_ and _nighteyes2569_ and reviewers _sarahgri99_ and _jiubantai-taichoCalmejaneJose_**. **So far, haven't established a constant update schedule but I'm still working on it. Enjoy, and please, read and review! :)**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its universe is owned by J.K. Rowling. Only characters owned by me is the Rivers family and filler characters. Some parts of this chapter are directly from the book!**

* * *

It was a normal summery June morning in Number 4, Privet Drive. The inhabitants, the Dursley family, were getting for a family outing, to celebrate their offspring's eleventh birthday. You would've expected to see a fourth member in the house but he was quite hidden. Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing ..."

Dudley's birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept. You'd expect some decency from the Dursley family? Well, you're mightily mistaken. He was living under the stairs for the past ten years because the Dursleys firmly believed that a 'freak' like him didn't deserve a room.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was agile.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and scrawnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way — all over the place. Aunt Petunia often compared it to a rat's nest. Dudley always laughed at the comparison.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig. Although, it'd be more accurate that he looked like a male version of a puppet, called Miss Piggy from an American show called the Muppets. Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickl-y, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty ..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of slightly rotten cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she deeply hates the boy."

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there — or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on D-udley's computer). Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave him in the car. ..."

"That car's new; he's not sitting in it alone. ..."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying — it had been years since he'd really cried — but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I ... don't ... want ... him ... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang — "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

"Ah, Marianne, how good to see you! We'll take good care of Piers, don't you worry!" Aunt Petunia wore her usual fake smile to say hello to Mrs. Polkiss when she kissed her in the cheek. "I hope my little boy won't be of trouble! When you finish, you can drop him off at our home, Petunia." said Marianne Polkiss before she turned away and clambered into her car and left.

Aunt Petunia closed the door, and not even a minute after, the doorbell rang again. Aunt Petunia glanced oddly at the door. When she opened the door, she saw Mrs. Rivers and her older son, who lived in Magnolia Road with two packages in her hand.

"Hello there, Petunia! How are you on this fine morning?" Janice smiled brightly. Dudley, Piers and Harry stood behind her looking suspiciously (and in Harry's case, surprised).

"Oh, Janice, how are you? I didn't expect you to come today!" answered Aunt Petunia with an authentic surprised look. "I passed by to drop that dress you ordered and to leave a little present for your son. Happy birthday, young one!" Janice smiled sweetly.

The- Rivers knew that the Dursleys were an unlikeable family, always boasting about everything, from their house, to their garden and their car. Vernon Dursley worked at a drill company called Grunnings. Most of the times, he went to formal outings to sign and work out contracts for the firm, which required Petunia to have fancy dresses. She met Janice six years ago, after one of her concurrent gossiping friend recommended her.

Janice worked at Madam Malkin's in Diagon Alley, but had a side job as a designer in the Muggle world and she was quite popular in the area. And Petunia had her make lavish dresses for the cocktail parties she assisted. Janice knew of course of Petunia some time before. She had heard about her from her sister Lily when she was tutoring students when she was in sixth year.

Dudley grabbed the parcel and had his piglet eyes fixed into it. He quickly opened it and it was a set of personalized handkerchiefs, with his initials D.D. embroidered in the colors of the Smeltings uniform, the private school that he was going to assist this September. Uncle Vernon went there when he was a boy himself and always boasted about it.

Janice, as observant as always, threw a side glance to his son, who was trying to catch the other boy's look. It was as he described last year, before the end of his primary school. Harry Potter did look scrawny, underfed and kind of sickly pale. She quickly devised a plan.

"Petunia, who's the little boy behind you?" asked Janice in her sweet voice. Petunia slightly glared at Harry. "Er, he's my nephew, but he's sick so I am staying to… take care of him. Yeah…" Petunia answered doubtful of her own answer. Mrs. Rivers clearly noted the lie. Oh, poor dear! I may offer you some help in taking care of him, while you're going out with Vernon and Dudley and his friend. Do you mind if I can take care of him so you can have a good time?"

Aunt Petunia and Dudley stood flabbergasted. A day without the freak? The mere idea excited both of them! Suddenly, Vernon came from the kitchen to check what the holdup in the doorway is. "Pet, what is going on?" He noticed that behind his wife, who was holding her new dress, was the boy, Dudley (still clutching the present) and his friend and outside was the Rivers lady with her son, who was looking at them pointedly.

"Ah, Janice, it's so nice to see you!" He shot his fakest smile at her.

"Oh, hello Vernon. I was offering Petunia to take care of your nephew so she can go with you to celebrate Dudley's birthday with you three." His smile turned sincere and the same thought that his wife and son had passed through his head.

"Well,- we would be grateful to receive such help! The boy woke up sick and possibly the drive to the zoo wouldn't sit well with him. We'll discuss something quick before you can take him to your home." Vernon answered. He then sent Harry to the kitchen. Petunia entertained her at the front door while Uncle Vernon sat down on the table, glaring at poor Harry. "I'm warning you now, boy. Any funny business, any wrong comment or action at all, and you won't be eating for a month! Go on with that woman and don't give any trouble, you hear?!"

Harry scampered towards the hall and joined Mrs. Rivers and her son outside. "Here's the boy! We'll be going now, Petunia. Call us when you return to drop him by!" Harry silently walked besides Andrew towards the car, without glancing back to the door of the house. Andrew opened the back door of his mother's car and waited that Harry sat inside carefully. Seeing Harry's attitude, Andrew decided to start a conversation after sitting in the backseat of the car.

"Um, hi. How are you? Do you remember me?" asked Andrew. Harry looked- appraisingly at Andrew, trying to remember. He suddenly remembered the Easter term two years ago, where he was rescued by Andrew from Dudley and his brutish gang. Harry nodded.

"Thanks for helping me that day." Harry said softly. Harry felt very grateful towards him since no one defended him and the teachers and the headmistress usually took the Dursleys' side, labelling him as a troublemaker and a liar.

"No problem, Harry. That's what friends are for!" Andrew gave him a toothy grin. "Friend…" Harry muttered softly. A small, yet genuine smile appeared on his face. He couldn't believe that he considered him, a freak, a friend. Usually, people who tried to be friendly to Harry were chased and/or bullied by Dudley to make him feel lonely. A couple of minutes later, they reached the Rivers residence. Mrs. Rivers opened the door and beckoned him inside. She directed him towards the living room, in which soft, comfy couches were placed in the sides of the room, with a medium sized TV and a VCR.

"Janice, is that you?" a voice called from the dining room. "Yes Anthony, it's me. We've got a visitor." she answered. A man in his late thirties, with a medium sized mustache and a little of graying hair around his sideburns came to the living room. A kid, no more than 8 ran behind him.

"Tony, you know the rule! No running inside the house!" Janice chastised her younger son. The boy giggled and sat beside Harry in the biggest couch. Tony looked at Harry in an awestruck way. "Mommy, mommy, it's Harry Potter!" Tony squealed in delight. Mr. Rivers noticed Harry and smiled gently. "Hello, Harry. Welcome to our home. You can call me Mr. Rivers or Inspector Rivers, whichever you want."

"Hello." Harry stammered nervously. His mind started reeling. How the little boy could've known his name? Why they were treating him so well? This had made Harry think deeply.

"Ah, feeling confused, eh son? I am a policeman so I know about mostly everyone on the area. No need to feel nervous." Mr. Rivers laughed slightly. "So, do you want something to drink? Tea, water or perhaps some juice?"

"A bit of water would be nice, thanks," answered Harry in a low voice. Anthony and Janice went to the kitchen. Janice started to cook dinner while Anthony filled a cup with water and ice and giving it to Harry.

* * *

Harry deeply enjoyed his visit to the Rivers residence. He felt quite full after Mrs. Rivers' scrumptious dinner, of which he had two helpings, and her chocolate pudding for dessert. Mr. Rivers just looked Harry in analyzing way, like if he were trying to notice something that couldn't be seen. At six, Mr. Rivers dropped Harry back at Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon opened the door and glared at Harry, but quickly changed it after noticing Inspector Rivers.

"Hello Inspector, how are you in this fine evening?" He looked from the inspector to Harry, his eyes going like a tennis ball in the middle of a Wimbledon match. "Was the boy giving trouble in the neighborhood?"

"I'm afraid that it isn't the case, Mr. Dursley. My wife Janice picked him up after noticing that he was sick and you and your son were going out and she offered herself to take care of him while you enjoyed the family outing. I was merely dropping him off before I went to the police department. He behaved very well." Mr. Rivers grinned slightly, and Uncle Vernon looked between pale and angry red.

"Thanks, Inspector. Have a good evening." he grunted while pulling Harry inside. He closed the door shut when suddenly Uncle Vernon looked at him with an angry bull's look. "So! Been lying to people eh, freak? Even to the police?," Uncle Vernon started stomping like an irate dinosaur towards him. "Go help your Aunt serve Dudley's cake!"

Harry was carted off to the kitchen by the scruff of his overlarge shirt by Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia was wearing oven mitts while taking the cake out of the oven. "Go and put chocolate frosting and the candles on the cake and take it to the dining table, you cheeky brat!" She went and sat down next to her husband at the table. Harry went and dutifully started covering the still-hot vanilla cake in chocolate frosting, sprinkles and attached the candles on top. He then grabbed the cake and when he was reaching the table, his damaged shoe got caught on the hem of the carpet and the cake went flying.

Aunt Petunia shrieked and covered herself with her arms, Dudley ducked under the table and Uncle Vernon stayed shocked on his chair. The cake flew from his hands and when a panic-stricken Harry extended his hands to try to catch it, the cake stopped in mid-air, like if was floating! The three of them looked at Harry with shocked and angry faces respectively. When Harry noticed that the cake was hanging in mid-air, he scared himself and the cake crashed on Uncle Vernon's face. He swiped the icing and the cake bits from his face and looked at him with pure loathing.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Mail Chase

Chapter 4 – The Mail Chase

 **Author's Note: Presenting, chapter 4! Hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its universe. Certain parts are quoted directly from the book.**

The fall of Dudley's birthday cake earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport since childhood: Harry Hunting.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"It's so sad that you can't go to Smeltings," he told Harry with a simpering voice. "It seems you aren't good enough for it."

"No, thanks," said Harry. "I'd rather go to Stonewall rather than to that pig sty you got accepted. They'll be surprised when a walking, talking pig comes in." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry go with the Rivers family. While they walked to Magnolia Road, they passed by Mrs. Figg's house in Wisteria Walk, and she invited them over. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry and Andrew watch television and gave them a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years in the fridge, while Andrew's mother and Mrs. Figg drank tea at the kitchen.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

" _Dudley looks like Porky Pig in that outfit."_ Harry thought, reminding himself of the cartoons he saw once back at the Rivers' residence. " _Perhaps the stick would've work if they worked at a piñata factory…"_

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High — like he was wearing bits of old, wrinkly elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and— a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had nearly no friends (except for Andrew), no other known relatives — he never went to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

 _ **Mr. H. Potter**_

 _ **The Cupboard under the Stairs**_

 _ **4 Privet Drive**_

 _ **Little Whinging**_

 _ **Surrey**_

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry had an idea and dropped his letter in his cupboard and went back to the kitchen, still thinking about his strange letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk ..."

Dudley kept eating his breakfast, but he had a suspicious look when he saw Harry come in. Breakfast went as normal as it could be, Uncle Vernon shouted at Harry to do some chores. Harry slowly, but diligently started weeding out the back garden, cleaning and pruning the flowerbed, and painted the fence and the wooden shed.

At five o' clock in the afternoon, he went and cleaned himself before starting to cook the dinner. Two hours later, dinner ended and Harry left towards his cupboard. He carefully closed the door and decided to read the letter. Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope. He pulled out the letter and read:

 _ **HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

 _ **Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**_

 _ **(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorceror, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)**_

 _ **Dear Mr. Potter,**_

 _ **We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**_

 _ **Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.**_

 _ **Yours sincerely,**_

 _ **Minerva McGonagall**_

" _Await my owl? What does it mean 'await my owl'?"_ Harry thought deeply. He folded the letter carefully and placed it under his pillow. Harry fell asleep quickly.

The next day, Harry woke up early to research what he read on the acceptance letter. He decided he would ask Andrew, although doing it with doubtful thoughts. _"What would he think? Would he think I am a weirdo or a liar?"_ Since he finished his chores yesterday near satisfactorily in Aunt Petunia's eyes, she shooed him out of the house and told him to 'not bother her for the morning'. He walked towards Andrew's house to ask. He promptly knocked the door three times.

Andrew opened the door and saw Harry. He smiled expectantly when he saw his little friend outside his door. "Hiya, Harry, come in!" Andrew invited Harry towards the living room and sat down. Mrs. Rivers came out of the kitchen and welcomed Harry to their home and brought him a glass of water.

Andrew came back with two sandwiches and sat down next to Harry. They ate in silence and finished the tasty meal, until Harry interrupted the silence.

"Um… Andrew… May I ask you something?" Harry asked gently. "Sure, ask away!" Andrew replied, surprised. Harry never talked much about himself when he visited. He usually stayed silent.

"Do-do you know about a place named Hogwarts?" he asked. This took Andy by surprise. The Boy-Who-Lived didn't know about Hogwarts? His mouth was gaping by that moment.

"You don't know about Hogwarts, Harry?" Andy asked, unsure of the answer he would get. "Anything at all?"

Harry shook his head. "I got a letter yesterday and hid it from my aunt and uncle. I thought it was a prank letter but it was too exact to be a prank. I brought my…" Harry suddenly patted his pocket and panicked. He didn't felt his letter. He must've hurried out of the house, completely forgetting about it.

"Harry, what happened? Where's the letter?" Andrew asked quickly, seeing his panicked face.

"It's back home I think…" Harry answered; his tone seemed kind of terrified. "Well, let's go then!" Andy pulled up from the sofa and pulled Harry's arm. He quickly told a short summary of what happened and asked his mum for permission to go to the Dursleys.

Meanwhile, while the pair ran back to Privet Drive, Dudley was waddling around the house eating a Mars Bar, when suddenly he remembered the freak's attitude yesterday morning. He went towards the cupboard door and opened it. He moved Harry's little belongings and the letter dropped from under the pillow. Dudley fixed his piggy eyes and picked it up. At that same instant, Harry came in, with Andrew trailing behind him, but staying outside.

"Mum, Dad, the freak was hiding a letter!" Dudley screamed in direction of the kitchen. Hearing the scream, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia quickly reached the hallway and saw the letter in his son's hand.

"P-P-Petunia! Isn't that…" Uncle Vernon spluttered.

"Yes, it is!" Aunt Petunia said, her face pale.

Uncle Vernon snatched the letter from Dudley's hand and noticed Andrew outside and went towards the door. "Erm, sorry but he can't come out today anymore. Family business, you know…" He nervously grinned while pointed at the letter and Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut in front of Andrew's face. Andrew gaped at the closed door, shocked at the man's disrespectful attitude. _"Stupid Muggle…"_ he thought while he walked sadly back to his home.

The Dursleys walked towards the kitchen. Uncle Vernon took out the letter and read, his face turning redder by the second. They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"I want to have it back," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry didn't move.

"I WANT MY LETTER BACK!" he shouted.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address — how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching — spying — might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want — "

Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer. ... Yes, that's best ... we won't do anything. ..."

"But — "

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "I want it back"

"You won't have it back as it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er — yes, Harry — about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking ... you're really getting a bit big for it . . . we think it might be nice if you moved into the attic. I'll close off an area to make a room for you."

"Why?" said Harry, suspicious of his sudden benevolence.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms on the second floor: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. At the end of the hallway in between the guest room and Dudley's second bedroom, there was a trapdoor on the ceiling. It was the rickety entrance to the attic.

Uncle Vernon pulled the handle on his tiptoes and slightly pushed Harry up the rickety stairs. The attic was big, and only a third of it was full of boxes. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the floor and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was boxes. They were mostly full of Aunt Petunia's old things and random items Uncle Vernon and Dudley didn't use anymore. The only thing that was there were some shelves that was full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. Uncle Vernon slowly started assembling Dudley's old bed from the second bedroom in the attic, near the only window it had.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want him taking my stuff ... I need that bed... make him sleep on the floor..."

Harry sighed and stretched out on the newly assembled bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be in a more comfortable place than the cupboard. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it. He kicked himself mentally for forgetting the letter.

While this happened, Andrew was already telling his parents what happened back at Harry's house yesterday during the dinner. Mr. Rivers was working overtime at the DMLE so he didn't come until late morning of the next day.

"Dad, Harry asked me about Hogwarts. He seemed to not know anything about our world!" Andrew ranted.

Mr. and Mrs. Rivers looked surprised at his son rants, and frowned when he told them that Vernon Dursley slammed the door on his face under the lame excuse of a family business.

"Hmmm… this is quite suspicious Andy. If Mr. Potter doesn't know ANYTHING about the Wizarding World, this could be troublesome. I have also suspected that they are working the kid like a house elf. Maybe I should contact Professor McGonagall of someone of the staff to check up on him." Mr. Rivers answered, while finishing his own meal before walking towards the fireplace.

He picked up a seemingly normal jar from the mantelpiece and pinched a bit of some odd looking powder and threw it to the fire. The fire turned emerald green and he called "Professor McGonagall's office!" and put his head in.

At the other side, Minerva McGonagall was talking with the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore and the Head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape. She was mildly surprised when she saw her own fireplace light up in green flames and saw the head of Pomona's old student, Auror Anthony Rivers.

"Good evening, Minerva, Albus, Severus. Sorry for interrupting, but this is kind of urgent." Mr. Rivers started speaking in a serious tone.

"Good Lord, what happened, Auror Rivers?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"It's about Harry Potter, ma'am. My son Andrew told me what happened yesterday at where he's living and I am suspecting some irregularities in this." Mr. Rivers answered calmly.

Dumbledore was silently shocked at what he heard. He was under the delusion that the only person living nearby that was related to the wizarding world was Arabella Figg. He hadn't expected that an Auror, not just any Auror, Alastor Moody's first apprentice, was living near Privet Drive.

Severus Snape was hearing what had transpired the day before with the Potter brat. Being treated like a lowly house-elf? He doesn't know about their world? He dismissed the ideas, still thinking that the Auror was exaggerating a bit, since the brat probably was pampered and was whining about being forced to do chores. _"But this is Rivers we're talking about… The man is very competent and his son is a Potions prodigy and won't lie for stuff like this…"_ he thought methodically but didn't comment anything.

"Can someone check up on him, please? I cannot mention magic in front of the muggles due to the contract I have of being undercover in the Muggle world." Mr. Rivers asked.

"It's going to be tough. I can't go since I have to visit this year's batch of muggle-born students starting tomorrow. Albus, what shall we do?" asked McGonagall.

"I will settle someone to check on the boy on the suspicions you have brought us to light, Auror Rivers. Thanks for the information." Dumbledore answered while the Auror nodded and said his goodbyes, disconnecting from the Floo call.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his old bed back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he wouldn't've forgotten the letter in the cupboard. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Attic, 4 Privet Drive — ' "

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind, nearly strangling him. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard — I mean, the attic," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley — go — just go."

Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he didn't have his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He creeped out of the attic and went downstairs without turning on any of the lights. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door —

"AAAAARRRGH ! "

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat — something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.

"I want — " he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, distractedly trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"Fine day, Sunday… Do you know why Dudley?" asked Uncle Vernon in an oddly happy voice.

Dudley shrugged while picking up a cookie from the plate Harry was passing around.

"Is it because there's no post on Sundays?" asked Harry in a quiet tone, passing him a cookie.

"Right you are, Harry! No post on Sundays. HA!" he reminded them cheerfully as he placed the cookie over his coffee mug and spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today, no sir! No blasted letters — "

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry crawled into the floor trying to collect one and running towards his attic room

"No! NO!"

Harry ran towards the stairs and his uncle ran behind him, like an angry rhino. Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the middle of the hall, stopping Harry from reaching the attic door. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor on the lower story.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Far away! Where no one can find us! Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy looking hotel on the outskirts of Cokeworth, where Aunt Petunia lived as a child. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering...

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

" 'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

 **Mr. H. Potter**

 **Room 17**

 **Railview Hotel**

 **Cokeworth**

Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"It's Tuesday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

This reminded Harry of something. If it was Tuesday — and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television — then tomorrow, Wednesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun — last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain; there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless, creepy old man with a glass eye came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. The wind rattled the zinc-build roof and the rickety windows roughly. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled and pulled away one of the filthy windows, sadly it was the nearest to where Harry was. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket, away from the rain entering the broken window.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

" _Five minutes to go."_ Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.

" _Four minutes to go."_ Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one again somehow.

" _Three minutes to go."_ Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? It sounded like steps coming towards the shack.

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty... _"Was someone knocking the door?"_

Ten... nine — maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him — three... two... one...

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking very hard, as if a big rock just crashed to the shack's door to come in.


	5. Chapter 5 - Revelations under the Storm

Chapter 5 – The Revelation under the Storm

 **Author's Note: Hear ye, hear ye, chapter 5 has been uploaded! It has been a hectic week but don't think I have forgotten you guys! From here on, we'll be diverging and reentering canonity and non-canonity frequently. Shout out for the new followers _WaterLilly122_ and _krishachheda_ , and a special shoutout for the reviewer _sarahgri99_ , for writing after every upload! Thank you and enjoy!**

 **A.N. 2 - I had a minuscule error in the chapter, which was notified by the guest _Fast Frank_ (thank you!) and fixed immediately. It was due to lack of proofreading and being high on the bronchitis meds I've been using this week. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything on its universe except the Rivers family.**

* * *

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands — now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you — I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

Two men were standing outside the hut. One was giant of a man. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles, yet looking warm and friendly under all the hair.

The second one had long, oily black hair, a hooked nose, and pale sallow skin. His eyes were dark as the giant man's but they were devoid of the warmth of the former. He wore a dark, fancy muggle working suit. When he came near the light, Aunt Petunia gasped in an irate way.

" _YOU!_ "

"Yes, _me_ , Petunia. How _nice_ to see you once again." answered the man. "Seems you haven't changed one bit. You're still the jealous, tittering fool."

Harry noted this exchange between the man and his aunt. The look of loathing she was giving him was only given to him and to see her giving it to someone else surprised Harry deeply.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut after the man, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

"Rubeus, there is no time for niceties." the man responded, in a rash way.

The giant strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. The man took out a seemingly normal stick of wood, and made a chair appear out of thin air and sat down.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes." The other man looked towards Harry when he mentioned this.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sirs!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway — Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.

"An' this other man is Severus Snape, Potions Master of ter school." The man nodded and looked at Harry with a distasteful look.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

"Hagrid, please, let's get over with. No time for dawdling!" Snape answered in his serious tone.

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant and the man. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said,

"I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you two are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er — no," said Harry.

Hagrid looked shocked. Snape glared towards Petunia.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud!"

"I did get one, but my cousin found it and Uncle Vernon burnt it." Harry said sadly.

Severus shot a murderous look at the whole Dursley family. How dare they act like this? His notions about Potter being a pampered prince were slowly getting brittle by the minute. He started speaking in his silky, yet murderous tone.

"Mr. Potter, did you never wonder who your parents were and where they learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy — this boy! — knows nothin' abou' — about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad.

"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff. But I don't know who my parents were, though."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. my world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode. "DURSLEY!" he boomed. Severus clasped his hand on Hagrid's forearm and pulled him down to the couch.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My — my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know ... yeh don' know ..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Snape spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left for him? Petunia, I know you were a jealous and spiteful person, but this is going too far. Not knowing his past, nor his parents. You. Should. Be. Ashamed."

"I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?" Hagrid started ranting.

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry — yer a wizard."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"I'm a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to

 _ **Mr. H. Potter**_

 _ **The Floor**_

 _ **Hut-on-the-Rock**_

 _ **The Sea**_

The questions that he wanted to ask Andrew exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few

minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

 _ **Dear Professor Dumbledore,**_

 _ **Severus and I have given Harry his letter.**_

 _ **We're taking him to buy his things tomorrow.**_

 _ **Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.**_

 _ **Hagrid**_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment,

Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted. Snape scowled at Uncle Vernon.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Snape, "it's what we call non-magic folk like them."

"An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on." continued Hagrid

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a — a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak!

But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had wanted to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — abnormal — and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. Snape actually took his wand out and pointed it at Petunia.

"How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh — but someone's gotta — yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it... Unless… Severus, would yeh like to tell 'im about it?"

Snape nodded in anger, deeply glaring daggers at Aunt Petunia.

Hagrid sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then Snape said, "It begins on 1971, when I went to Hogwarts with other students, including your parents. A man, who self-stylized himself as Lord Voldemort, started attacking our society."

Hagrid yelped suddenly when he heard the name. Harry couldn't help himself and a question escaped his mouth.

"Who?"

Snape glared at Hagrid for interrupting.

"Well — I don' like sayin' or hearin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?" Harry inquired.

"His name had a Taboo, and whenever you said the name, his followers could track you and attack. That's how many families fell during the previous war. We usually referred to him usually as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a custom to not activate the Taboo." Snape continued.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an' you was only a baby, an' you lived." Hagrid said nervously

"Anyway, the Dark Lord, about twenty years ago now, started looking for followers. He had many of them infiltrated in many positions in the Ministry too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit of his power, because he was getting himself power. He believed that blood purity was needed and that Muggles and muggle-born witches and wizards were worthless of studying magic."

Hagrid shuddered at the memory and spoke.

"Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches . . . terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him — an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway."

Snape sat down on his chair, rubbing his temples slightly. Hagrid then continued the story.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before . . . probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em ... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' — an' — "

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad — knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find — anyway…You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then — an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even — but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before — and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly. Severus looked at him with a subdued sigh.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot ..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there.

Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured — and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types — just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end — "

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and Snape by his side, and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat, while Snape brandished the stick once again. Pointing them at Uncle Vernon like a sword, Snape said, "I'm warning you, Dursley — I'm warning you — one more word..."

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant and jinxed by this man, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Mr. Potter. Some say that he disappeared. Vanished the same night he tried to kill you. That is what apparently makes you even more famous. That's the biggest mystery."

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who were on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle

Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid, Professor Snape," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he made Dudley's birthday cake float and splatter on his uncle's face?

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard — you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and — "

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled — "

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER —" he thundered, "— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

"HAGRID! No magic allowed!" Snape shouted. Then, he proceeded to remove the tail from Dudley's bottom. Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Sorry Snape, I shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows. Snape sighed wondering why Dumbledore sent him with Hagrid to pick up the whelp.

"I'm — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff — one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job — "

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"The reason that no magic can be done is because of the Statute of Secrecy that prohibits us to do magic in front of Muggles that don't know about our world. But in this case, Hagrid knows why he can't do magic. Right, Hagrid?" Snape said.

"Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." Hagrid continued.

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

Severus fixed the door with a wave of his wand and turned the chair he was sitting on, which laid thrown askew on the floor into a small camp bed. Then he transfigured the useless blanket into a cot for Harry to sleep in.

Hagrid took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."


	6. Chap 6 - Entrance to the Wizarding World

Chapter 6 – The Entrance to the Wizarding World

 **Author's Note: Happy late Thanksgiving! Chapter 6 is up! The usual shoutout is due to my new story followers: _Ravenclawthemystic_ , _StarraStarr_ , _Firemnwnb_ , _Amyb11_ , and _Ana238._ Thanks for reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Only the Rivers family is under my ownership.**

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Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed two men came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that."

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl — "

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"The owl is awaiting a payment for the delivery of the newspaper, Mr. Potter." Snape answered behind him, who was awake before Harry did.

"Check on the pockets, Harry." Hagrid groaned.

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets — bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags ... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones, Mr. Potter." Snape said calmly.

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"Urn — Hagrid, Professor?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots. Snape was preparing a bit of tea, using Hagrid tea set.

"I haven't got any money — and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed — "

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold — an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just one, called Gringotts. It is run by the goblins." Snape answered.

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah — so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe — 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore." Snape shot Hagrid a pointed look.

"Erm, Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly and half-ashamed.

"He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you — gettin' things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see." Snape rolled his eyes after hearing this.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry followed Hagrid and Professor Snape out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah — but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now we've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter — er — speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?" Snape sighed at the comment but he also didn't want to row the boat back to mainland.

"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?"

Harry asked.

"Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons' guardin' the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under

London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

" 'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

Snape answered his question. It reminded him how Lily asked similar questions to him when they were kids.

"Their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there are still witches and wizards in the country. Imagine it as the British Parliament and the House of Lords all in one."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone." Hagrid answered over the newspaper he was reading.

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

Snape's eyebrows shot up in a questioning manner.

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Professor Snape so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. Professor Snape sat down across from Harry.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything

yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the other time before, and read:

 _ **HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

 _ **UNIFORM**_

 _ **First-year students will require:**_

 _ **1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)**_

 _ **2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear**_

 _ **3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)**_

 _ **4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)**_

 _ **Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags**_

 _ **COURSE BOOKS**_

 _ **All students should have a copy of each of the following:**_

 _ **The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)**_ _ **by Miranda Goshawk**_

 _ **A History of Magic**_ _ **by Bathilda Bagshot**_

 _ **Magical Theory**_ _ **by Adalbert Waffling**_

 _ **A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration**_ _ **by Emeric Switch**_

 _ **One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi**_ _ **by Phyllida Spore**_

 _ **Magical Drafts and Potions**_ _ **by Arsenius Jigger**_

 _ **Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them**_ _ **by Newt Scamander**_

 _ **The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection**_ _ **by Quentin Trimble**_

 _ **OTHER EQUIPMENT**_

 _ **1 wand**_

 _ **1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)**_

 _ **1 set glass or crystal phials**_

 _ **1 telescope**_

 _ **1 set brass scales**_

 _ **Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad**_

 _ **PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE**_

 _ **NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**_

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid and Professor seemed to know where he was going, Hagrid was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him, trailing behind Professor Snape. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting them.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he, Professor Snape and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know

Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "Ah Severus, Hagrid, welcome! The usual, Hagrid, I presume?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business, Professor Snape here is helpin' me with young Harry." said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this — can this be — ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter ... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Snape's face turned into a scowl.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"

Harry shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more. A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. Suddenly Snape briskly walked between Harry and Hagrid and the man.

"Well, look who it is… I'm surprised to see you out and about, Quirinus." Snape looked at the man contemptuously.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid, noticing who it was. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?"

Professor Snape's scowl deepened further. "Now, Quirrell, you must imagine that Potter is some kind of magical prodigy and doesn't need to learn Defense. You are deeply wrong. Let's see if that trade-off from Muggle Studies for Defense will bear fruit."

He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b- book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. Snape's left eyebrow rose in suspicion.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, Professor Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder painfully hard, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since." Hagrid thought.

"He wasn't that nervous before, when he teached Muggle Studies." said Snape frowning slightly. Then he threw a slightly pointed look at Harry.

"I reckon he's scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid continued.

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up ... two across ..." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."


	7. Chapter 7 - Diagon Alley Exploration

Chapter 7 – Diagon Alley Exploration

 **Author's Note: Chapter seven is here! I guess it's too early in the week to update eh? I'm going out with a friend on Saturday and I'd rather update early than fail to update after the week's Satuday. Shout out to the new followers _mirroreddark_ , _Thawk6_ and _revelynn42_ and to answer to the anonymous Guest without spoiling to the other readers: 1. It's in this chapter, although it won't stay there; I'll continue it in subsequent characters, and 2. Not going to that house, although I am going to introduce to what you recommended first. **

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He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. Professor Snape saw that Harry was getting sidetracked like a lost lamb and he walked towards him and grabbed him by his shoulder a bit too rough. Harry tensed when this happened.

"Mr. Potter, do not go gallivanting into some random place due to your curiosity. It may be interesting everything you see but stop being a dunderhead and follow us." Snape whispered a bit dangerously.

A plump woman, with bashful red hair and slightly tattered robes was outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying,

"Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad."

Hagrid saluted the woman while Snape only nodded in recognition. The woman looked quite ashamed at her attitude and snapped out of her trance when he saw the kid. But when she noticed who the kid was, they were already far away.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever — "

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. ...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _ **Enter, stranger, but take heed**_

 _ **Of what awaits the sin of greed,**_

 _ **For those who take, but do not earn,**_

 _ **Must pay most dearly in their turn.**_

 _ **So if you seek beneath our floors**_

 _ **A treasure that was never yours,**_

 _ **Thief, you have been warned, beware**_

 _ **Of finding more than treasure there.**_

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Snape and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblins book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. Harry looked questioningly at Hagrid and Professor Snape, which also was looking at Hagrid in the same way, with his brow furrowed.

"Hagrid, why do you have my key?" Harry enquired.

"An excellent question, Mr. Potter. Why do you have his key, Rubeus?" Snape followed. Hagrid looked oddly at both.

"Professor Dumbledore had the key after yer parents' death, Harry. Fer safekeepin' o' course." Hagrid answered.

"I wonder why Albus thought that it was appropriate to have access to the key." Snape shot.

Harry observed the exchange and many questions arose. He should ask a more trusting person about this. The goblin looked at the exchange closely and then received the key from Hagrid.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Snape and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter, refrain asking such questions. If such topic is veiled in secrecy, it's because you aren't supposed to know or enquire about it. And you, Hagrid, stop blabbering relevant information to anyone, please." Snape chastised. Hagrid blushed in embarrassment.

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty

— and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick." He did look very green.

"Mr. Potter, stalactites are the ones that grow from the ceiling and the stalagmites are the ones formed by the water with calcite dripping from the stalactites and harden. You would've learned this in muggle school eventually." Snape answered. Harry silently thanked him for clearing his doubt.

When the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling. Snape slowly came out of the cart and Harry trailed behind. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver and heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons and the ones are Sickles." Professor Snape explained.

"Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin. Harry gulped.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least — but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it is best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

"Wise idea." Snape answered, smirking at Hagrid's predicament.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life — more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts. Professor Snape can stay with you." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry nodded. Harry and Snape walked in the direction of Madam Malkin's and he stopped.

"Mr. Potter, I will be next door revising some potions ingredients for my personal stores. If you need of my assistance, please procure me there." Snape entered the apothecary next door and Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. I will ask my assistant to help you."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and went to the back room to look for her assistant.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own brooms. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

" I do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

Outside, Hagrid came back from the Leaky Cauldron and waited for Harry with Snape at the front store.

"I say, look at that man talking to Uncl- I mean, Professor Snape!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there next to Snape who was looking sour-faced holding a box in one hand, and an ice cream in the other, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid next to Professor Snape," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts. They came with me today."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant. You shouldn't repeat rumors without corroborating the facts." said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin came back from the back room with her assistant, who was surprisingly Mrs. Rivers and said,

"That's you done, my dear," to the pale boy. "Young man, my assistant will be attending your uniform measurements now." Not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool and moved to the one near Mrs. Rivers.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry nodded seriously, when Mrs. Rivers addressed him.  
"Well, hello there Harry. How are you today?"

"I'm doing well, Mrs. Rivers, thank you." Harry replied timidly, still surprised about finding her here.

"So, you're finally going to Hogwarts, eh dear?" Mrs. Rivers asked sweetly. Harry nodded.

"Surprised to see me here? I know it'd be a shock to see me here. Andy couldn't tell you since you scampered away and we didn't see you after you ran away after receiving the letter and forgetting it back at your home." Harry's mouth opened agape as he thought that everything she said had just crossed his mind. He just nodded slowly.

"I doubt you came all alone here. With whom did you come here?" She asked.

"Professor Snape and Hagrid picked me up yesterday. We already went to Gringotts to collect some of my money." Harry answered while she continued to pin the robe up to the correct measurements.

"Oh, Severus and Hagrid! I haven't seen them recently!" She looked at her wristwatch.

"Hmmm, it's nearly lunchtime. I go at break soon, so I can pick up Andy and Tony from Flourish and Blotts and join you and Severus and Hagrid to eat." Harry's whole body perked up as she mentioned his friend. She finished measuring the robe and prepared the three black cloaks and the winter cloak. She also gave him three extra cloaks, one which was a deep emerald green."

"Um, Mrs. Rivers, why the extra cloaks?" Harry enquired.

"I see you don't have normal wizard clothing so I'm giving you these two for daywear and the other one for fancy occasions. Don't worry, those three are on me." She quickly said when Harry was bringing out his money pouch.

Harry wasn't used to this treatment. Usually his clothes were second-hand from Dudley. Having clothes made for his size made him very happy. Mrs. Rivers excused herself with Madam Malkin and they exited the store.

"Hi there Severus, Hagrid!" Janice said brimming with happiness. Severus turned around and looked at who had addressed him. Hagrid shot her a crinkly smile under his abundant beard.

"If it isn' little Janice Summerby, 'ow are yeh?" Hagrid boomed.

"Oh, Hagrid, I don't go by Summerby anymore. I've been married for thirteen years!" Janice answered.

"How nice to see you, Janice. How is your husband Anthony?" Severus asked. Janice started to recount how the family it was

Harry was odded out at the familiarity of their addressing. He nervously cleared his throat and asked Mrs. Rivers. "Um, Mrs. Rivers? Did you say Andrew is in the bookstore?"

"Oh, yes. Andy must be looking around the Potions section of Flourish and Blotts. He's been obsessed with it, Severus. If you want, you can go ahead and look for him. Leave the robes with me." Harry gave the packaged robes to Mrs. Rivers and went towards the book store.

Flourish and Blotts was big, with two stories full of texts of every type of magic and the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Harry asked the manager for a basic first year set of books. Also, he took out of curiosity a book called _Hogwarts, A History_ and while looking around, he bumped into Andrew, who also was startled because of Harry bumping him with his back.

"Harry! So nice to see you! I see you finally discovered our world." Andrew grinned.

"I was surprised when Hagrid and Professor Snape popped up last night at where we were staying." Harry replied.

"Oh, Professor Snape is here?!" Andrew's eyes lightened up. Andrew's favorite professor was Snape. Snape also developed a liking for the boy, since he was a prodigy in Potions. He hadn't seen anyone as good as himself and Lily in the ten years he has been teaching at Hogwarts.

"Yeah, he's outside with Hagrid and your mum talking." Harry answered.

"So, got your books for school, eh? I'd recommend you a bunch of side books for extra reference."

Andrew dragged Harry along the shelves and selected a book on basic techniques of preparation of Potion ingredients, _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ ("You're mentioned in here, Harry!" Andrew said surprised), and a rather ratty-looking book called _The Sacred Twenty Eight_ by Cantankerous Nott. That last one explained the history of the major wizarding families. Andrew told him that he should know a bit of history of his predecessors. Harry paid the manager all the extra books and exited Flourish and Blotts.

They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. They ran to Quality Quidditch Supplies afterwards and they found Tony sticking his face at the display's window, admiring the Nimbus 2000.

Tony was hyped at seeing Harry and showed him the different models of brooms and such. Harry was clueless about what Tony spoke. A few minutes later, Janice picked them up and the six of them walked towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him on the way (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

They reached the dining room and Janice ordered lunch for six. Harry sat silently with a strained face.

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied.

When they had nearly finished lunch, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know — not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told the group about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"It seems that you were describing the Malfoy Scion, Mr. Potter. Are you sure he said all that.

" — and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in — "

"Yer not from a Muggle family," Hagrid interrupted. "If he'd known who yeh were — he's grown up knowin' yer name, as his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like — like soccer in the Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"They're not that hard, Hagrid. I'll explain them to him." Then Andrew went explaining Quidditch to Harry in terms he could understand until he got the most of it.

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School Houses. There are four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but — "

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harry gloomily.

"Hagrid! I will remind you that my husband was a Hufflepuff and he won't take kindly that comment." Janice looked at him a bit put out.

"S'rry Janice…" Hagrid blushed in shame.

"Slytherin is one of the other houses. I am the Head of House of Slytherin. Sadly, most of the dark witches and wizards have come out of our house. You-Know-Who was one of those."

"Vol-, sorry — You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago. He was two years ahead o' meself," said Hagrid.

The group finished their lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and went off to buy the rest of the school supplies for both kids.

Hagrid and Professor Snape wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, ("It says pewter on yer list" Hagrid said and Snape added "Gold cauldrons are for specific potions and brewing times. Besides, I don't want you to be throwing away money, Mr. Potter"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. '

Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery- black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). Professor picked up another parcel, presumably, what he was buying while he was in Madam Malkin's. Andrew was buying many ingredients and carefully labelling and packing them.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left — oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red.

"You don't have to — "

"Your birthday is today?! Blimey! Happy birthday, Harry!" Andrew hugged Harry in surprise and Mrs. Rivers and Tony also hugged him. Harry's face went redder but was pleased at the gesture.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at — an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell. Andrew also bought some owl treats for his owl Odin.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand . . . this was what Harry had been really looking forward to. Janice had to return to her job since her lunch break finished. Tony went and stayed with his mom while Andrew went with Professor Snape and Hagrid towards Ollivanders.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC._ A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair. Snape fixed the chair with a flick of his wand. Andrew stayed a bit away from the entrance door, looking at the shadow that was moving towards them from the corridor full of boxes.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter." It wasn't a question.

"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where ..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands ... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er — yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. Then, he saw the dour man, standing next to Hagrid.

"Ah, Severus Snape, it has been a while. Silver Lime and the feather of a particularly serious phoenix, thirteen inches, very hard. Is it?"

"Yes, Mr. Ollivander, sir. Still in the excellent conditions you sold it to me." Snape replied.

"And here's young Mr. Rivers! I sold you your wand last year! Black walnut and phoenix feather, fourteen inches and a half long, also a bit hard. Correct?" Andrew nodded in confirmation.

"Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see."

He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. Harry and Andrew tiptoed looking curiously.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try — "

Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. Andrew giggled at the man's eagerness.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, well find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid and Andrew whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good."

Then Ollivander slowly turned serious and thoughtful. "Well, well, well ... how curious ... how very curious ..."

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious . . . curious

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty, except for Mrs. Rivers and Tony, who were waiting them.

"Severus, Hagrid, I'll take Harry back home. He lives three streets from ours." spoke Janice.

"Thank you Janice. Hagrid and I will take our leave back to Hogwarts," Snape replied.

Hagrid searched inside one of the pockets and pulled a slivery colored ticket. "Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me. ... See yeh soon, Harry."

Professor Snape and Hagrid exited the pub. Janice and Andrew helped Harry with his things. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny- shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Andrew tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time for a bite to eat before our train leaves," he said.

Janice bought Harry, Andrew and Tony a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry? You're very quiet," said Mrs. Rivers.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life — and yet — he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander ... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry — I mean, the night my parents died."

Janice leaned across the table and cupped Harry's cheek lovingly as she wore a very kind smile.

"Don't you worry, Harry dear. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yourself. I know it's hard. You've been singled out, and that's always hard, but you'll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did. Besides you'll have Andy with you."

They finished eating and went to the train station. Mrs. Rivers paid the tickets and entered the train. The train pulled out of the station towards Surrey in a silent mood.


	8. Chapter 8 - Reunions and Voyages

Chapter 8 – Reunions and Voyages

 **Author's Note: Chapter 8 is finally up! This week has been vey problematic for me and it was hard to concentrate on finishing the chapter but I did it! Thanks for the new followers: _AzW330_ , _gryhndsr4us_ , _Mary the Filker_ , _mostcommonwombat_ , _em-z-paiger_ , _dreamflower02_ , _Ryry the dark_ and _sasel_ and the Guest (or Guests, but I guess it was the same person)who reviewed the last three chapters. I hope this one may be of your liking!**

 **Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter, except a few characters under my ownership!**

* * *

A few hours later, Dumbledore was in his office. He summoned most of his faculty for an urgent reunion. He was sitting calmly in his chair, thinking how to proceed with the plan. Suddenly, he felt the wards near the gargoyle that protected the entrance go off. The door was knocked and he replied with a "Come in," and the door opened.

Into the office came McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, Hagrid, Vector, Babbling and Sinistra. Oddly, Quirrell wasn't there. Dumbledore's brow creased slightly before addressing them.

"Ah, thanks for coming on such a short notice. The reason that I called you here was for something very important and I require a secrecy vow from each and every one of you." Dumbledore explained.

Suddenly, the wards were triggered and Quirrell barreled into the room, wearing a weird purple turban.

"S-s-sorry I'm l-l-l-late. I d-d-dozed off," Quirrell stammered. Snape glared deeply in suspicion.

"No worries, Quirinus. May I ask why the interesting headwear?" Dumbledore inquired.

"P-present f-from an African p-p-prince f-f-for eliminating a z-zombie." Quirrell answered nervously.

Dumbledore retook the topic. "As I was saying, this information that I am going to present you merits a secrecy vow."

The teachers took the vow and after they finished, Dumbledore continued.

"The reason of the reunion is because of this."

Dumbledore extended his hand towards Hagrid, who took out the grubby little package from his coat and placed it delicately on Dumbledore's hand. Dumbledore slowly unraveled it and a small, blood red stone was unveiled from the wrappings.

Everyone looked nervously at each other, except Quirrell who was sweating nervously. Snape and McGonagall saw Quirrell's odd behavior and decided to talk to Dumbledore afterwards.

"This is the Philosopher's Stone, whose owner is Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle. We will be hiding it in the school, due to the attack that transpired today in Gringotts." Hushed whispers started between everyone except Snape and Hagrid.

"What happened at Gringotts, Albus?" McGonagall asked.

"The unknown perpetrator or perpetrators tried to access the vault where the Stone was placed. Luckily, Severus and Hagrid removed it earlier that same day, while they accompanied Harry to buy his school items." Dumbledore answered truthfully and more whispers ensued. Quirrell shot a discreet glare towards the two men, which Severus noticed and Quirrell changed the direction of his sight.

"We'll require protections for the Stone and I will need your assistance. You can plan a protection according to your field of expertise, inform me in private and it will be implemented. Second, I need suggestions for where to put the stone - " Dumbledore was interrupted briefly by Snape.

"Why don't you leave it in here, Albus? It will be way easier under your protection."

"Hm, it may be the most viable option…" Then Quirrell popped up. "W-why not the th-third floor c-c-corridor n-near F-Filius's c-c-classroom?"

"Ah, another option. Thanks for your opinion Quirinus. For now, plan your enchantments and submit them to me before classes start. Heads of Houses and Hagrid, I need a word with you. The rest can be dismissed." Dumbledore smiled at everyone and Babbling, Vector, Quirrell and Sinistra left the office. The other five stood looking curious.

"The reason for holding you back is to remind you that Harry Potter is coming back to our world. Hagrid, how was Harry doing?"

"Prof'ssor Dumbledore, Harry is good. Though ter muggles were 'orrible to 'im, fer sure." Hagrid said, his mood darkening.

"Muggles?" Flitwick piped up. "Mr. Potter is staying with Muggles?"

"Yes, Filius, he's staying with Lily's muggle sister and her family. How was he, Hagrid?" Minerva asked with worry.

"He didn' know abou' our world, McGonagall, not one bit. Stupid oaf lied throug' and throug' to the kid." Hagrid replied.

"Petunia lied to Mr. Potter about his heritage and about Lily and Potter's death. They have been saying that they died in a car crash." Snape spat angrily. Hagrid growled at the reminder. Pomona and Minerva gasped at the revelation.

"So, Severus, I suppose you know why I sent you with Hagrid?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Yes, I thought you wanted me to go because of one of your crazy whims, but you utterly destroyed my convictions of Mr. Potter. He wasn't the pampered, loved prince I thought he would be. Granted, he definitely looks like Potter, in all except the eyes and inquisitive attitude. That is completely Lily's." Snape answered quietly. Dumbledore's eyes shone in confirmation.

"Glad you noticed before school started, Severus." Dumbledore replied.

* * *

Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't that fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him — in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

To change his mood, he visited frequently the Rivers household in Magnolia Road during the day. Andrew always was happy to answer Harry's questions, mostly about school or about the books he bought. Today the question was mostly about the book _**The Sacred Twenty Eight - The Pureblood Directory**_ that he bought at Flourish and Blotts. Andrew searched his personal bookshelf and pulled out a tattered old book called Nature's Nobility for him to cross-reference.

Harry deduced that the book he bought that explained a little about the history of, according to the author of the Pure-Blood Directory, the twenty-eight British families that were still "truly pure-blood" by the 1930's, was a bit biased. Harry re-read a paragraph in the first chapter.

" _The Sacred Twenty-Eight is comprised the families of: Abbott, Avery, Black, Bulstrode, Burke, Carrow, Crouch, Fawley, Flint, Gaunt, Greengrass, Lestrange, Longbottom, Macmillan, Malfoy, Nott, Ollivander, Parkinson, Prewett, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Shacklebolt, Shafiq, Slughorn, Travers, Weasley and Yaxley. Each of them has a noble story and background…_ "

"Andrew, why isn't your surname and mine are not included in here? Aren't you a pureblood? I suppose my father is, since Aunt Petunia is a muggle and my mother and she were siblings…" inquired Harry doubtful of what he read.

"The reason of why my family isn't here is because I'm half American from dad's side and the book refers to British families, so we're out from that side, and mum's family had history of marrying muggle-born or half-bloods, so they weren't really 'pure' by their standards." Andrew answered academically, yet in simple ways for Harry to understand. "About your dad, they were The Potter family was excluded from the list because it is also a common Muggle surname, and that Henry Potter, who is one of your ancestors, also made an outspoken pro-Muggle view during his time in the Wizengamot. The purebloods possibly didn't like that and maybe that's why they aren't in the Directory."

Andrew produced another book from the shelf, which had many genealogy charts that his grandpa Louis Rivers wrote some years ago for his research. He searched in the "P" section until he found the Potters.

"Although Dorea Black, whose family usually either intermarried to keep their motto "Toujours Pur" valid, or married other purebloods, married Charlus Potter, who both are your great grandparents, and she did not got disowned, which would almost certainly indicate that the Potter family had no known Muggle ancestors or relatives."

Harry was fascinated in hearing about his family, although he still hasn't seen any picture of his parents yet, which saddened slightly. He kept reading with Andrew the genealogy book and found about his grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. Both had presumably died in an attack in 1978.

"Also, remember that this book was written in 1930's, so maybe some of the families here aren't valid in the list because of their beliefs or their genealogy. For example, the Weasleys deplore their status as one of the twenty-eight, due to their ancestral interest in the Muggle world. Their protests had earned the distaste from some of the other families on the list, effectively labelling every member of their clan as "blood traitors." Because of this, the Weasley's economic status has gone downhill the past half-century. They are a wonderful family though. Three of the kids of the clan are still in school, and one just graduated recently. Also, if I'm not mistaken, the youngest male kid is entering Hogwarts this year too." Andrew thought.

"Now that I think of it, many of the offspring of these families are going to Hogwarts this year too… Let's see the list… I know that the Abbott girl is starting. Usually they get sorted to Hufflepuff. Bulstrode is a possible candidate… I think that the Carrow twins older brother has twin girls coming this year too, Greengrass is entering, Longbottom also is in, Macmillan also is, Malfoy is obviously in, Nott and Parkinson too, and as I said, the last Weasley boy is coming too."

Harry looked questioningly at Andrew. "How do you know all these people?"

"Dad's an Auror, a magical policeman, and you know that mum works as Madam Malkin's assistant. Dad is working undercover with Scotland Yard and mum has been designing clothes in the Muggle world for the past eleven years. And usually we have to attend the Ministry's Yule Ball and such, so we know these people."

Harry kept to his room in the attic at nights, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come up there anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er — Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er — I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to — to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three- quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Vernon, the platform does exist but I do not remember how to access it." Petunia said awkwardly.

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, looking at Aunt Petunia horrorized, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the psychologist," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that trauma about the pig tail subdued before he goes to Smeltings."

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes — he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk was about to be loaded into the Dursleys' car, when Aunt Petunia heard someone honking a horn in front of their house while she talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry before they had set off.

"Hello Petunia, good morning! Where are you off to?"

"Hi Janice, we're off to drop the boy in King's Cross before going to London. Erm, he's leaving to a boarding school." Aunt Petunia answered slightly sweating out of nervousness.

"Oh really? We're picking up a relative of ours today so we can take him out of your hands if you want, dear." Both the Dursleys and Harry smiled at the offer. Harry didn't want to be dropped at the station by the Dursleys and the Dursleys didn't want to be with him. Probably they'd left him abandoned there. Petunia accepted gracefully and Mr. Rivers placed Harry's trunk in the car's trunk.

On the way there, Harry, Andrew and Tony talked more about Hogwarts and about their world. They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Mr. Rivers placed Andrew's trunk on a cart and then heaved Harry's trunk onto another cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Then, Mr. Rivers handed the cart's handle to Harry. Suddenly, two trains arrived and many passengers left the trains.

Due to the large quantity of passengers, Harry split off from the Rivers family and couldn't find them. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask someone.

He stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters.

Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl. He should've asked Andrew before getting there.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

" — packed with Muggles, of course — "

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him — and they had an owl. He remembered what the book said and Andrew's comments and he suspected that this was the Weasley family.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red- headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go now?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first. Then you two." She signaled the two redheaded twins.

The oldest son, who wore horn-rimmed glasses pushed his cart towards a wall and vanished. He thought he was going crazy. No one can vanish in thin air. One of the twins went quickly behind him and also vanished.

Now the second twin was walking briskly toward the barrier — he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

Harry decided it was time to ask.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall compared to Harry, with freckles, big arms and legs, and had dirt on his nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "I came with a magical family but I lost them. The thing is — the thing is, I don't know how to — "

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. He was expecting him to crash into the wall. It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

Suddenly, he found the Rivers family, looking anxious a few feet away. Mr. Rivers was talking seriously with one of the employees stationed by the Ministry in the train station. Mr. and Mrs. Rivers noticed the young boy and nearly jogged towards him.

"Oh dearie, what happened? I thought we'd lost you forever!" Janice hugged him tightly.

"I got separated by the people coming out of the trains. I am sorry if I made you worry…" Harry answered.

"No worries, son. At least you're with us again." Mr. Rivers patted Harry's shoulder lovingly.

They walked towards one of the train's doors. Janice hugged Andrew tightly.

"Andy, be careful this year, okay? Make us proud!" Mrs. Rivers said softly and then proceeded to hug Harry, He felt good by being hugged in a motherly way.

"If you need something, please message us, Andy. You too, Harry." Mr. Rivers smiled and scruffed both boys' hairs. When they were about to board, they saw a boy with dreadlocks that was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry and Andrew pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere!"

With the twins' help, Harry and Andrew's trunks were at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you — ?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

Andrew decided to intervene, noticing Harry's nervous face.

"Hi Fred, George, how are you two pranksters today?"

"Well if it isn't ickle Andy boy? How are you?" asked one of the twins, grinning.

"I'm doing well. What about you? Any interesting plans?" Andrew smiled conspiratorially.

"Loads of them, actually. D'you know him?" asked the other twin.

"Yep, I've known him for two years already since he lives near me." Andrew answered proudly.

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train. Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Andrew sat across him. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose. Harry and Andrew giggled at the boy's problem.

"Mom — geroff." He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

The conversation was difficult to hear by them because of all the talking out of the platform. Andrew decided to extract his Potions book and read and Harry did the same, until he heard one of the twins outside his window.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter"

Harry heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please. ..."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."

"Poor dear — he said he was lost. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"Well send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Andrew smiled at Harry, seeing his excitement. And indeed, Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Train Ride

Chapter 9 – The Train Ride

 **Author's Note: Finished the chapter on the nick of time! I've been a bit sick this week and mostly helping around home and filling job applications (most get denied), and thinking about my birthday next weekend. Thanks to all my followers who have been reading patiently, and the usual shoutout to my new followers: _drwhorg_ and _N1CkHast_.**

 **Author's Note 2: To clarify a doubt of one of my reviewers: Wandlore and construction, as it's explained by Pottermore and the Harry Potter wiki, is divided in four categories:** **Wand wood,** **Magical cores,** **Wand length and** **Rigidity.** **Usually, wands are only described in terms of the source tree, its core and its length. However, occasionally, the firmness of the wand wood has also been described. Rigidity or flexibility of a wand characterises the willingness to change and adapt of the wand-and-wizard pair. I hope this helps to clear some doubts.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe. Only ownership is the Rivers family and other minor characters.**

* * *

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"May I sit here?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry, next to Andrew. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and Andrew and then looked quickly out of the compartment door's window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose. The compartment door opened again.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train —

Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron, while shuddering.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves early? Fred and George Weasley, prankers extraordinaire. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry, Andrew and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out. Andrew's eyebrow shot up like if he were saying "Oh really?" towards Ron's insensitivity

Harry nodded. Ron noticed Andrew's look.

"Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got — you know ..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who — ?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Ronald, please. That is being disrespectful." Andrew said snapping the Potions book to a close. Ron shied away at the Ravenclaw's irritation, ears turning pink. Harry still did answer his question.

"Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

Harry had curiosity about what he read in the Sacred Twenty Eight, since Ron's family was mentioned.

"Ron, I know you're a pureblood and stuff. Can you talk to me about your family? I'm trying to learn about the magical world and its families."

Ron was stunned at what Harry had just said. "Y-you don't know anything about our world?"

Harry shook his head. "The little I know is thanks to Hagrid, Professor Snape and Andrew, mostly."

Ron's eyes grew wide. "S-Snape? The bat of the dungeons Snape?"

"He doesn't seem so bad, maybe too serious." Harry replied.

"He's wonderful, and he's quite a genius in Potions." Andrew said, lightening a bit.

Ron looked at Andrew like he was nuts.

"So, care to explain to Harry and me a bit of your family history, Ronald?" Andrew asked.

"Er — yes, I think so," said Ron. "Dad's parents were Septimus Weasley and Cedrella Black. Mom's maiden's name is Prewett and my grandparents' name were Pericles Prewett and Carmen Macmillan and they had two older twin brothers, Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon. I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"Interesting, you are associated to a lot of pureblood families then. So you must know loads of magic already!" Harry said smiling.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Harry, but most of us learn it like everyone else: at Hogwarts. Although I've heard rumors that some do have private tutors before going to school, mostly the richer purebloods" Andrew answered, a bit downcast.

"Yes, I don't know much magic yet, and we can't manage to get tutors." Ron whispered the last part, lowering his head. Harry suddenly saw Ron's face and Ron noticed so he tried to change abruptly the topic.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible — well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five brothers and one sister," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now, Bill is a cursebreaker for Gringotts, Charlie is in Rumania in the Dragon Reserve, Percy became a prefect, and at this rate, he'll probably be head boy. Fred and George mess and prank around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five older brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff — I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents until this past birthday. This seemed to cheer Ron up, thinking about the similarities between them.

"... and until Hagrid and Snape told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort — "

Ron gasped. Andrew flinched slightly.

"What?" said Harry.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people — "

"He's not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Andrew looking apprehensive.

"I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. ... I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that hadbeen worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be. As I said, there are loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quickly enough. Some even can beat most of the pureblooded students."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor.

He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry — but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron and Andrew stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?" Andrew said, grinning at Harry, coming into the compartment after buying a big quantity of Chocolate Frogs.

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Those are good! Wanna trade it for one or two of my Chocolate Frogs?" Andrew asked eyeing the sandwiches hungrily.

"Sure, go ahead!" Ron picked up two Chocolate Frogs from Andrew's lap while he unwrapped one of the sandwiches and bit it with gusto.

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron and Andrew, eating their way through all their pasties, cakes, and candies.

Andrew patted his belly after that scrumptious snack. Harry picked up one of the candies he bought, with a look of curiosity.

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No they're just enchanted chocolate. They have enough magic for one jump so be careful," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know — Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect — famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

"Here Ronald, I got the Ptolemy one!" Andrew placed the card on Ron's hand, the boy smiling widely at him.

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa and complete this set — thanks!

Harry turned over his card and read:

 _ **ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**_

 _ **CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS**_

 _ **Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten pin bowling.**_

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back."

Andrew was finishing the last sandwich and decided it was time to explain Harry about the magic in pictures, portraits and paintings.

"Usually, to explain it in Muggle terminology, the magical pictures are like short videos of the person or group of people in them. Portraits are painted with the essence of the subject. For example, from what I've heard from dad, the headmaster's office has many portraits of past headmasters who are there for counseling. Some old pureblood families have portraits of their ancestors too. They retain some memories of the subjects, but they aren't the person exactly."

Meanwhile, Ron was biting down one of the Chocolate Frogs and opening the last one that was in his lap.

"No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her ... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the remaining pile of Chocolate Frogs on Harry's side, waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but other important historical figures such as Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, his own grandfather Fleamont Potter and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor — you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."

"Come on Ronald, booger-flavored? George was yanking your chain, I reckon."

Ron shrugged and picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh — see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Andrew had a bit of a lucky strike and got chocolate, peanut butter, orange, cake icing, and pork chops, while Harry got toast, coconut (Andrew nearly fainted on this one because he's allergic to them), baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end of a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were ample woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry, Ron nodding in confirmation. Andrew was distracted so he didn't hear the boy.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him ..." He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look ..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"That's your brother's old wand?" Andrew inquired. "You know the wand chooses the wizard, right?"

Ron's ears turned pink once again. "Err… yeah, I know. Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway — "

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes. Andrew's mouth opened at the sight of her.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large beaverish front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er — all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. For example, _Reparo_!" She pointed her wand at Harry's glasses and the bridge of his glasses was repaired in an instant. Harry and Ron were impressed while Andrew smiled at their incredulous faces.

"Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either. Andrew on the other side, was looking at her with a goofy grin, his stomach fluttering with happiness.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"A-Andrew Rivers, at your service" Andrew said blushing.

"Are you really?" said Hermione, looking at Harry. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"I know. I also bought them and read a bit. Andrew here recommended me some books. I am still impressed that I'm mentioned though." said Harry, feeling dazed.

Hermione smiled at the boy and then continued.

"Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..."

"I personally don't know which house." Harry answered.

"I'm a Ravenclaw second year. Dad was a Hufflepuff and Mum was a Gryffindor." Andrew answered.

"Usually my family goes into Gryffindor so I guess I won't be much different."

"Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad."

"His toad's missing? Maybe I can help. Open up the compartment door, please." Andrew offered. He grabbed his wand and said " _Accio_ toad!"

The toad zoomed from the corridor towards Andrew's open hand. The boy gave Andrew his thanks. He offered to teach them the spell for a while. Hermione got it real quick and Harry and Ron managed to do it occasionally. Hermione Granger rose from the seat.

"You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

Andrew peered through the window. "She's right, I expect to be there for the next 15 minutes. And she left, taking the Neville and his toad in tow with her.

"He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off Houses until he saw the folded newspaper on top of Andrew's trunk.

"Is that a newspaper?" Harry enquired. Andrew nodded. "It's the Daily Prophet, the British wizarding world's newspaper."

"May I read it?" Harry asked in curiosity.

"Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles — someone tried to rob a high security vault." Ron said in a hushed tone.

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know- Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er — I don't follow any yet." Harry confessed.

He was just taking Harry through the finer points of his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking.

"And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron and Andrew gave a slight cough, which might have been

hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Malfoy said glaring at Ron. Then he turned towards Andrew.

"And then there's son of one of the most famous Aurors, Andrew Rivers." Malfoy faked a sigh. "Another pureblood family who decided to consort with Muggles… Oh, how this place has gone to the dumps."

Andrew rose up from his seat, snapping his potions book shut, obviously angry at Malfoy. "And here's the blondie poncey git, who has to be accompanied by his two trolls and always behind his father. Get out of the compartment before I jinx you."

He eyed Andrew menacingly and then he turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys or the Rivers and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up besides Andrew.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him, Andrew or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle 's knuckle — Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once, Andrew behind them sending a Stinging Hex to their bottoms. A second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry.

He looked closer at Scabbers. "No — I don't believe it — he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. In that same instant, Andrew came into the compartment and sat down, taking deep breaths.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You- Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"He's right, Harry. Malfoy and his bookend's fathers were suspected Death Eaters ten years ago. Dad personally was investigating some cases and they have been involved on some but they bought themselves out." huffed Andrew angrily.

He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something, dear?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice and left.

Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

He, Andrew and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles.

"Come on guys, no need to be nervous! Just look for Hagrid. He'll take you up to the castle. Us second years and above have to take the carriages and wait you in the Great Hall." Andrew exited the compartment first, following some other Ravenclaws of his year.

They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor. The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice:

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then —FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

* * *

Meanwhile on the carriages…

Andrew got up with his roommates in one of the carriages. As they sat, they noticed that Andrew had a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"What is going on, man?" asked Gilbert. "Did something happen on the train?"

"Yeah, I think I met the most awesome girl on existence…" answered Andrew.

"Don't tell me widdle Andwew has a cwush on somewone!" said Joseph laughing.

"Stop it guys!" shouted Andrew, his blush made more noticeable.

"We touched a soft spot then, now tell us, who's the girl?" asked Marietta in a giggly voice.

"It's a first year." said Andrew meekly

Everyone looked at Andrew with clueless faces, until Cho decided to break the silence.

"Really Andy? A firstie?" Cho looked at Marietta with a surprised face.

Andrew furrowed his brow. "Yes, any problems with my likes? Besides, I just met her on the train."

"Calm down! We were just playing, mate." Gilbert shook his head.

"We're nearly at the castle doors. Get ready, people." Joseph pointed out.

* * *

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Sorting of 1991

Chapter 10 – The Sorting of 1991

 **Author's Note: Happy Holidays to everyone! Today's update is a rushed one, since I turn 24 today and there's people popping up at home at random and since I have to go to the local Burger King to upload it, I had to run here to upload it on time. A quick shoutout to my new followers: _Symbi0sis_ , _mike raven_ , _mantale3_ and _Heart of a Lion_!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Information about certain topics has been collected from the Harry Potter wiki.**

* * *

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." McGonagall glared sternly at Malfoy, who was whispering to Crabbe and Goyle in hushed tones. "Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours." She glanced at the group of first years.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

* * *

 _Some minutes earlier…_

Andrew and his Ravenclaw yearmates sat down at the table, stationing themselves near where the newly sorted first years will be sitting.

"D'you reckon we will get more than 7 Ravenclaws this year?" asked Gilbert.

"Hope so. Last year it was only us five and Jeremiah and Lauren." answered Cho.

"Now that you mentioned, where ARE they?" inquired Joseph.

Marietta giggled conspiratorially. "They're further down the table, all googly eyed to each other." she answered in a gossipy tone.

"Just like Andy was a few minutes ago." Joseph smirked while the group laughed.

"Oi, take a break will you?" Andrew said offended. He started to nurse a bit of a headache. "I think I may need to visit Madam Pomfrey after the Feast. I have a massive headache…"

"You should tell one of the new prefects. I heard that Penelope Clearwater was selected as the female prefect. I don't know who Flitwick selected for the male one." Cho replied.

"I'll tell her before she goes with the firsties to the tower." Andrew said, nodding in confirmation.

* * *

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet (except the charm Andrew taught them earlier) — what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need.

Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teachers wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

Suddenly, he felt very woozy. He felt like if he had run a marathon the whole day. _"Probably the nerves acting up…"_ he thought. He glanced towards Ron and noticed he looked oddly paler than normal. He kept looking amongst his fellow first years and saw that the Granger girl, went silent and she also looked peaky. _"Now that's odd…"_

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

"What the — ?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance — "

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight.

Harry and Ron spotted Andrew by the nearest table they were standing by and he gave them a thumbs up. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper in a tired voice, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

" _ **Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,**_

 _ **But don't judge on what you see,**_

 _ **I'll eat myself if you can find**_

 _ **A smarter hat than me.**_

 _ **You can keep your bowlers black,**_

 _ **Your top hats sleek and tall,**_

 _ **For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat**_

 _ **And I can cap them all.**_

 _ **There's nothing hidden in your head**_

 _ **The Sorting Hat can't see,**_

 _ **So try me on and I will tell you**_

 _ **Where you ought to be.**_

 _ **You might belong in Gryffindor,**_

 _ **Where dwell the brave at heart,**_

 _ **Their daring, nerve, and chivalry**_

 _ **Set Gryffindors apart;**_

 _ **You might belong in Hufflepuff,**_

 _ **Where they are just and loyal,**_

 _ **Those patient Hufflepuffs are true**_

 _ **And unafraid of toil;**_

 _ **Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,**_

 _ **If you've a ready mind,**_

 _ **Where those of wit and learning,**_

 _ **Will always find their kind;**_

 _ **Or perhaps in Slytherin**_

 _ **You'll make your real friends,**_

 _ **Those cunning folk use any means**_

 _ **To achieve their ends.**_

 _ **So put me on! Don't be afraid!**_

 _ **And don't get in a flap**_

 _ **You're in safe hands (though I have none)**_

 _ **For I'm a Thinking Cap!"**_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws, including Andrew stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, but he thought they looked a bit unpleasant. After Millicent Bulstrode, they called "Stephen Cornfoot" who became the third Hufflepuff, "Michael Corner" came to be the third Ravenclaw, then one of Malfoy's cronies, "Vincent Crabbe" went quickly to Slytherin, followed by "Tracey Davis" who also became a Slytherin.

He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted

Dudley to think they liked him.

"Entwhistlye, Kevin" became the next Ravenclaw. Harry noticed that there were not much Gryffindors.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. Anthony Goldstein became the newest Ravenclaw member while Malfoy's other bodyguard, Gregory Goyle automatically went to Slytherin, just like Crabbe did.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

Andrew saw her sorting with rapt attention. Cho looked at him and whispered something to Joseph next to her.

"So that's the girl, huh Andy?" Joseph said.

Andrew didn't answer. His ears answered them by turning themselves beet red.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat after a minute or so. Ron groaned. Next, a blonde girl called Daphne Greengrass turned into the next Slytherin member and after her, and a bespectacled boy called Wayne Hopkins became a Hufflepuff.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called after the Hufflepuff called Megan Jones, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag" who became the latest Ravenclaw. After her, a snooty-looking boy called Ernie Macmillan turned to be a Hufflepuff.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!", Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

Su Li went to Ravenclaw, Lily Moon turned into a Gryffindor, Theodore Nott went to Slytherin, with Pansy Parkinson behind him, then a pair of twin girls, Padma Patil and Parvati Patil who were sorted into Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, then "Perks, Sally- Anne" went to Hufflepuff, and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, " _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin!"_

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that." Harry continued to plead to the Sorting Hat to desist sending him to Slytherin.

"No? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.

Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only five people left to be sorted. "Smith, Zacharias", a blonde guy who had a worse snooty face than Ernie Macmillan also became a Hufflepuff while "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table. "Oh, _ANOTHER_ Weasley. I know where to send you…" said the Sorting Hat, and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he — a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"Pssst, guys!" Andrew called from the table next to theirs. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione greeted him. "Congrats on the Sorting! Shame any of you didn't get into Ravenclaw but it's equally as good that you four are in Gryffindor." Andrew smiled. "These are my yearmates, Joseph and Gilbert. They share the room with me. There is a fourth one but he's with his girlfriend, also from my year." He pointed further down the table towards the two lovebirds. "His name is Jeremiah and hers is Lauren. She shares their room with Cho and Marietta here." The girls nodded in greeting. "Anyways, enjoy the Feast! By the way, does your table have lasagna? I've been craving a bit of it!"

Harry grabbed Andrew's plate and scooped a piece from a platter near the twins and passed it back. Harry restarted his dinner.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak. "Can't you — ?" Harry tried to ask but he got cut off by the ghost.

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy — " the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly.

Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new

Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared: blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding and more.

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was a squib for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go." Harry, Ron, Seamus and Dean flinched at the tale.

"A bit barbaric, don't you think?" said Ron to the others. Neville nervously continued. "But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult — "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing — ").

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, but still a bit dizzy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to Professor Snape.

It happened very suddenly. Snape looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look again. Snape looked at him oddly, looking between Harry and Quirrell with suspicion. Harry noticed that Snape was seeing him and the professor continued his dessert. Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third- floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. McGonagall and Snape slightly glared at the Headmaster, who was jollily ignoring them.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

" _ **Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,**_

 _ **Teach us something please,**_

 _ **Whether we be old and bald**_

 _ **Or young with scabby knees,**_

 _ **Our heads could do with filling**_

 _ **With some interesting stuff,**_

 _ **For now they're bare and full of air,**_

 _ **Dead flies and bits of fluff,**_

 _ **So teach us things worth knowing,**_

 _ **Bring back what we've forgot,**_

 _ **Just do your best, we'll do the rest,**_

 _ **And learn until our brains all rot."**_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"What does he think we are? Ponies?" Dean asked the other boys and they laughed at the question.

* * *

Before leaving the Great Hall, Andrew stopped the brown-haired girl, who wore a blue badge with a P embedded on it. "Excuse me, Penny. I have to go to the Hospital Wing. I'm having a major headache. Can you tell the other prefects and Professor Flitwick where I am in case they're looking for me?" Penelope smiled and patted him on the head endearingly. "Sure will, brainy. I'll tell Flitwick after taking the first years to the dorm." She directed the first years behind the Gryffindors while he took the shortcut next to the Great Hall's door up to the third floor, trying to be early.

* * *

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

When they were at the fourth floor landing, Harry's vision went spotty and he tripped with Ron. Percy noticed this and came as fast as he could to them. "Harry, Ron, are you two alright?" Percy asked.

"I'm a bit dizzy, feeling kinda weak…" Ron answered.

"Same here." answered Harry in a wheezy tone.

"Tsk tsk tsk, it seems I should drop you in the Hospital Wing. It is in this flor at least." Percy asked Dean and Seamus to help carry Harry and Ron towards the Hospital Wing. When Percy opened the door, Madam Pomfrey was giving Andrew a vial with some liquid, which he drank completely. She came at a brisk pace when she saw the whole group of Gryffindor firsties.

"What is going on here? What is the reason all of you are here? Prefect Weasley, may you explain?" Madam Pomfrey looked at Percy in a stern way.

"On our way to Gryffindor tower, Mr. Potter tripped with my brother and both of them felt weak and queasy and decided to bring them here to check on their condition."

"Good intuition, Prefect Weasley. Ten points to Gryffindor for quick thinking. Anyone else is feeling weak?" Hermione Granger and Neville the toad boy raised their hands. "You can take the rest of the students to the tower and pick these four afterwards, Weasley."

Percy took the gaggle of first years towards the exit of the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey directed them to her work desk. "Now, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger, stand in front of me, please." Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and murmured a charm that shone on their bodies and afterwards, she looked worried.

"Hmmm, Mr. Longbottom, in your case, you have the first symptoms of flu. A Pepper-Up Potion should do." She extracted a little vial and gave it to Neville. As he drank it, smoke came out of his ears. All six of them laughed. Neville sat next to Andrew, who decided to see what happened to his friends. As for you three…" Madam Pomfrey's brow furrowed. "Magical exhaustion… Weird… Were you three attempting magic without supervision?" Harry, Ron and Andrew looked guiltily between them, until Hermione decided to speak.

"Neville lost his toad when we were on the train earlier and I was helping him to look for it. Then, Andrew here used the Summoning Charm to get it and he showed us how to do it. I got it after seven tries but Harry and Ron kept trying until they only moved a bit what they were summoning."

Madame Pomfrey eyed Andrew, and he shrunk in his chair. "Mr. Rivers, is this true? You were showing them how to perform a Summoning Charm, which is in the FOURTH year Charms curriculum to FIRST years?" Andrew gulped and tried to explain himself but he decided to just answer with a shameful nod.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Mr. Rivers, I am prohibiting you from teaching higher level magic to these children until they are further in their magical career. I will notify Professor Flitwick about this. And as for you four," Neville jumped in his chair in surprise. "Yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom. You will NOT attempt to do magic if it isn't under the supervision of a Professor. Understand?" All five students answered with a yes.

"The reason of this is because your magical core gets used up." The first years looked at her with questioning faces. She continued her explanation. "The magical core is from where magic is "produced" in a sense. The reason why magical children under 11 can do accidental magic is because their core is very erratic and unstable. Muggles lack of this "magical core" and thus the reason they don't have magic. Squibs come from magical families but their core is too weak to do magic. On the other hand, muggle-born students, such as you, Miss Granger are the opposite. They come from Muggles but they can use magic. It is theorized that, due to something that Muggles call genetics, which is a fairly recent branch of Muggle science, that some of their predecessors, possibly grandparents or great grandparents were squibs or could perform magic but were separated or thrown from their families because of association or marriage to Muggles. It is a very common practice of the rich pureblood families to shun these people." The five of them looked grimly from one another. "The core starts its stabilization when they turn 11 years old, which is the reason why Hogwarts admittance is when you turn 11. If you use magic that consumes more of its produced energy, you'll get magical exhaustion, like you three had today."

In that instant, Percy came into the Hospital Wing. She briefly explained to him what they had and they were herded to the door. She told them on their way out, "Remember, rest well and don't to advanced magic unless it's with a professor's guidance!"

Andrew decided to go with them, since the route to Ravenclaw tower was very similar to theirs. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves — show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle

Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects." They continued their march upwards.

At the sixth floor, Andrew said his goodbyes and went westward, towards Ravenclaw tower. Percy, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville continued a few more stairways until they reached a corridor.

"Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed Hermione through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in one of the towers — they found their beds at last: five four- posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. Neville had fallen asleep almost instantly.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get off Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it — then Malfoy turned into a hooded figure with red, slit-like eyes, whose laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Potions Surprise

Chapter 11 – The Potions Surprise

 **Author's note: I hope you've had a wonderful holiday! I finished early this chapter so I could submit it before the New Year's Eve. I researched about the Gryffindor's possible class schedule but it turned confusing. I did coordinate Andrew's appropriately though. Anyway, I won't blab more. As usual, shoutout to my new followers: _panther73110_ , _jennyPV2112_ , _SpookySpooks_ , _ArkonWinfel_ , _animikiikaa_ , _JerichoTa_ _zer_ , _Absque_ _zer0_ , _reapertmn3_ , _Nipplegun_ _z_ , _Syla07_ and _Stelfy_.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, only the Rivers and some characters.**

* * *

Andrew reached the door to Ravenclaw Tower and he waited until the eagle knocker presented the riddle.

"If you speak my name, you destroy me. Who am I?" the knocker recited.

"That would be the silence." Andrew answered swiftly.

"Correct. You may enter." The door opened and Andrew entered the common room, and crept towards his bedroom. Joseph, Gilbert and Jeremiah were already asleep so it was less of a hassle to explain why he got so late.

The next morning, Andrew woke up slightly early. Only Jeremiah was awake and he was preparing his bag for the day. Andrew took a shower and came out again.

"Morning, Jeremiah, slept well?" Andrew asked.

"Yeah, you?" Jeremiah replied.

"I slept like a baby. Where you off to?" Andrew continued.

"I'll be waiting Lauren at the common room and then go to breakfast. Want to join us?" Andrew nodded, and they went down the stairs towards the common room, where Lauren was already waiting.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" Lauren kissed Jeremiah and hugged Andrew. "Let's go to the Great Hall, I'm starving!"

Jeremiah held Lauren's hand and the three of them strolled down to the Great Hall, where he found a place in the middle of the table. A few minutes later, the rest of his yearmates came down. Then, while Andrew was devouring his delicious breakfast, Robert Hilliard, the new male Ravenclaw prefect came down the table delivering the timetables with Professor Flitwick, the Charms master.

"Second years, here are your timetables." Prefect Hilliard spoke up.

Andrew received his timetable and saw that he had Potions on their third period on Mondays and a double period on Wednesdays, Defense on second period on Mondays and first period on Thursdays, Charms on first period on Mondays, second period on Saturdays and before dinner on Thursdays. Transfigurations were two double periods, on Tuesdays and Fridays in the morning, while Herbology was after the Potions double period on Wednesdays, just after lunch and on Saturday mornings. History of Magic, to the Ravenclaw's pain, was before dinner every Monday, Tuesday and Saturday. Flying lessons were after the Defense class on Thursdays and Astronomy were on Thursday night, leaving Tuesdays and Thursdays after lunch and the whole Friday afternoon free.

After analyzing the timetable, Professor Flitwick tapped Andrew's shoulder.

"Mr. Rivers, I want to have a word with you." Flitwick said, smiling slightly.

Andrew followed Flitwick to the antechamber just outside the Great Hall. Flitwick had his back towards Andrew.

"What happened, Professor?" inquired Andrew.

"It is nothing bad, Mr. Rivers. I just wanted to speak to you." Flitwick turned around with a calculating look. "Is it true you teached three first years a fourth year charm and succeeded even if they depleted heavily their magical core's energy?"

Andrew grew nervous, but answered honestly. "Yes professor, I taught them the Summoning Charm I learned from dad's old textbooks after I used it to find one of the young Gryffindor's pet toad."

"Hmmm, quite interesting. Madam Pomfrey mentioned what happened after the Welcoming Feast yesterday during breakfast last night and I made a decision."

" _Oh great, I'm going to have a detention on the first day…"_ Andrew thought nervously.

"I will award ten points to Ravenclaw for helping another student, and 15 for performing an advanced charm so early." Andrew's mouth opened in surprise. "Also, there will be no detention, if that's what you thought, but I must repeat the mediwitch's words. No using advanced magic unless you are under a teacher's supervision. And lastly, you are invited to join the Charms club. I will notify when the reunions are, of course. Now, off you go and I will see you in class in thirty minutes, Mr. Rivers."

Andrew ran towards the Great Hall and told his friends about the point awarding and the invitation.

"Lucky you! We haven't started and Ravenclaw is already in the lead! Gilbert expressed happily.

They rose from their seats and started walking to the third floor, where the Charms classroom was located this year. Sometimes, the classrooms tend to switch yearly. On their way there, they heard people whispering.

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

* * *

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. The whole week was full of interesting topics.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was expecting the first years standing on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking- to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else, as Andrew mentioned. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

* * *

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we'll be able to see if it's true."

"We will have to see. He didn't strike me as an evil man. If it's true that he favored the Slytherins, I wished McGonagall favored us like he does," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. Andrew's owl Odin had dropped a parcel at the neighboring table.

Usually, Hedwig sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and brought Harry a parcel that day and a note. Harry tore the note open first. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

 **Dear Harry,**

 **I know you get Friday afternoons off so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.**

 **Hagrid**

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled " _ **Yes, please, see you later**_ " on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

Harry had look forward to tea with Hagrid. The Potions lesson turned out to be one of the most decent things that had happened to him so far.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. I expect good work from you, Potter." Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death— if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Andrew had told Harry that Snape had high expectations from his students, and not much of them fulfilled them. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked stumped. He had read something about those particular ingredients, and beside him, Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I think it's a power sleeping potion, but I can't remember the name." said Harry.

Snape's mouth turned into a smirk.

"At least you seem to have read something, Potter. You are right. It is a powerful sleeping potion, called the Draught of Living Death. Its effects can be countered by the Wiggenweld Potion."

Harry, Neville and Hermione were taking notes, while Ron decided to copy off Harry's later. Snape was eyeing which student he was to question next and seeing that Ron was being too lax, he decided to ask him next.

"Let's see who else. Weasley, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Ron didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. His ears were quickly turning red. Harry tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Weasley? Miss Granger, you seem to know the answer as you seem to be hovering on your chair."

Most of the Slytherins and some Gryffindors laughed at Snape's answer.

Hermione's ears were as red as Ron's.

"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons." Hermione replied in her informative tone.

"A textbook answer, but nonetheless correct." Hermione felt proud. Snape looked over to Neville.

"What is the difference, Longbottom, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Neville flinched at Snape's voice and he stuttered his answer. "N-n-none, as i-it's the s-s-same p-p-plant."

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, sighed in slight exasperation.

I didn't know I was teaching Professor Quirrell, Longbottom. You answered correctly. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant as you answered. It also goes by the name of aconite."

Snape saw that only a few of the students were copying the information down.

"Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" Snape barked. "And 15 points to Gryffindor for answering the questions correctly. A collective gasp was heard in the dungeon classroom. Snape giving Gryffindor points?! That was unheard of! Malfoy had his mouth open and his eyes were about to pop out of his sockets.

Things were going surprisingly well and it did improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape had explained the basic methodology of preparing the ingredients in detail so no accidents occurred. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs.

Everything was going okay until Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

Snape got up from his desk and cleaned the mess with a wave of his wand. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape said to Seamus in a slightly annoyed tone.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were high. He'd won five points for Gryffindor in his very first week!

"Well this is a complete surprise," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off the non-Slytherins. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

On the way out of the dungeons, they found Andrew coming down the stairs with his friends.

"Hi guys! I just finished today's Transfiguration lesson with the Hufflepuffs. Came out of Potions, I see." Andrew smiled.

"Yeah, it was pretty good." Harry replied. Harry and Ron told Andrew their experience with Potions class and the awarding of points. Andrew and his friends also gave a collective gasp in surprise.

"Snape gave you Gryffindors points?!" Gilbert asked with an incredulous face.

The Ravenclaws were surprised with the chain of events and it was assured that the rumors and gossips will be running before dinner came up. Andrew said goodbye to his housemates and accompanied Ron and Harry around, trading stories from their first week.

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang — back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling; a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry pointed Ron to Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. "And I think you remember Andrew." Harry continued.

"O' course I remember Andrew!" Then Hagrid looked at the other person in the room. "Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Andrew, Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

The three of them were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it."

They kept talking about their respective weeks until Hagrid remembered something. "How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot — great with animals."

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

 _ **GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**_

 _ **Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on July 31**_ _ **st**_ _ **, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.**_

 _ **Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.**_

" _ **But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.**_

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts when he picked up the newspaper, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!" Andrew flinched at the thought and his mind went reeling.

There was no doubt about it. Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry, Andrew and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now?


	12. Chapter 12 -What's Behind Door Number 3?

Chapter 12 – What's Behind Door Number 3?

 **Author's Note: Happy New Year 2018! I hope you can achieve your goals this year. I have been having trouble with my laptop recently. The keyboard has been malfunctioning and today had miraculously worked correctly. I will try to hurry up and finish more chapters than usual before it fails completely. As usual, the shoutout for my new followers: _harmonysrain_ , _TheLoneHero17_ , _DamnedArisen_ , _IrishKatana_ and _Douggernaut_. As usual, I like reading the reviews left by all my followers and other guest people in the page. Please continue R&R because it hypes me more into doing a better job!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe, only select characters made purposefully for this fanfiction.**

* * *

The information they had obtained weighed heavily on their heads, mostly on Andrew's. Being the son of an Auror made him think everything very analytically. He should ask his father about the investigation.

The next day, Andrew went towards the greenhouses for his next Herbology class with the Gryffindors. He paired up with Gilbert, Joseph and Jeremiah, while in the next table Cho, Marietta, Lauren and the Gryffindor Katie Bell were working together.

"Isn't today the Quidditch team trials today?" asked Joseph to the octet.

"Yes, Ravenclaw and Slytherin are an hour before lunch and Gryffindor and Hufflepuff is after lunch." answered Katie enthusiastically.

"I wonder who the captains are this year…" expressed thoughtfully Marietta.

"Our captain is Oliver Wood since he's the oldest in line since Charlie graduated last year." explained Katie. "I hope I can get in the team as a regular this year. Or at least as a reserve since we didn't have any during the shameful Slytherin match last year…"

Katie sighed and continued tending the plant.

"As far as I know, Marcus Flint is the Slytherin captain, Jonathan Everdeen is the Hufflepuff one, and Lester Marchbanks is the Ravenclaw captain." added Gilbert. Professor Sprout shushed them and continued their work.

* * *

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the House Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

"He probably hasn't even SEEN one in his life!" Andrew told his friends in a loud voice, while the Gryffindors, obviously attempting to shame Malfoy and it worked, because after it, everyone started laughing at him and he looked sourly towards Andrew.

He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Harry and Andrew knew that Ron was acting like Malfoy and also told him off, to Ron's annoyment. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.

Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday, the first year Gryffindors came down from their common room, except Neville who had overslept. When they settled down at the table, Neville came rushed with his clothes badly placed. Hermione had bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called _**Quidditch Through the Ages**_. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note and Mrs. Rivers's package (which he hadn't checked since he rushed to Hagrid's house), something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh ..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "... you've forgotten something ..."

"Nev, you are wearing all your uniform except your cloak." Andrew pointed out to Neville in an innocent way when he reached the group on his way to the neighboring Ravenclaw table. Everyone giggled.

Neville was turning a deep shade of red when he noticed what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry, Andrew and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

* * *

After breakfast, Andrew and his Ravenclaw yearmates had gone to Defense Against the Dark Arts and sat down on the right side of the classroom. It seemed if like Quirrell was waiting that the rest of the students, in this case the Slytherins, to be on time. The remainder of the students appeared five minutes later and Quirrell started his class with his usual stutter. After a lot of boring talk, they went to the Quidditch Pitch where Madam Hooch was awaiting the second years from all the houses.

"Good afternoon, class." said Madam Hooch in her usual stern tone.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch." replied in unison the students.

"Welcome to your second year flying lessons. This year we will be doing different drills depending on the position. We will be rotating monthly the drills. Since you are now second years, the ones who get selected as regulars or reserve players, won't have to come to these reviews."

The drill of the day was Chaser-type for Slytherins and Gryffindors and Keepers for Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Since there are seven students per house on the second years, it was a 20 minute interval for the Keepers and 3 rounds for the 3 Chasers, also on rotation mode.

Andrew had saved 6 of the 9 score attempts, while Gilbert and Lauren had 7 apiece. Cho and Marietta had the lowest scores, 4 and 2 saves apiece, mostly due to Cho's lack of agility while protecting the hoops and Marietta was scared of the Quaffle. Joseph and Jeremiah had tied for the highest scores, with 8 out of 9 saves. The other students were faring decently, mostly the Slytherin and Gryffindor contingent, whose competitivity was very specially marked. Katie Bell had a perfect score and was very excited. She had practiced very hard on the summer vacation.

After their flying lesson, the Ravenclaw captain and the Slytherin captain came on to the pitch, and a medium sized group following them with their broomsticks in hand, ready for the trials. Most of the Slytherin team stayed the same, while the Ravenclaws had set up a very solid team. Andrew and Joseph were selected as Reserve Keeper and Chaser respectively.

Just after lunch, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors that were interested for the team trials walked towards the pitch. The Hufflepuff trial went first and Captain Jonathan Everdeen seemed to assemble a somewhat decent-looking team, while Oliver Wood was nervous of what he will find.

"Welcome to this year's Quidditch trials for the Gryffindor team. My name is Oliver Wood, the Keeper and captain for the team. Now, the ones who want to try up for the Chaser places, settle to my immediate left, those for Beaters to my immediate right and the Seekers in front of me."

For the first round, Wood went in groups of three Chasers against him, to see if their accuracy and teamwork went well. After 5 groups of three, he selected the six best Chaser applicants and tested them in rotation. He finally made his decision and he decided on Angelina Johnson, who was last year as a regular, Alicia Spinnet, the reserve chaser, and a newcomer, Katie Bell. Then, he proceeded to the Beaters tryout, bout it went very fast because no one could beat the Weasley twins.

" _They really are a pair of Bludgers, those two…_ " thought Wood, with the crazed glint in his eyes.

Sadly, the Seeker tryout weren't as successful as he expected to be. All of the applicants failed to look for the Snitch in the allotted time. Wood decided to end the tryouts and went directly to McGonagall's office to inform her of the new team.

"Good afternoon Professor." Wood said in an odd serene voice.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wood. I guess you have finished the tryouts, correct?" Professor McGonagall inquired.

"Yes, except we still don't have a seeker…" Wood answered sadly.

McGonagall sighed wearily. " _Another year that Slytherin will win if we don't find a seeker…_ " she thought. She sent Wood on his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts and she continued marking off the essays of her NEWT students.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!' "

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are grabbing the broomstick handle like a sloth would hang from a tree!" They snorted in laughter when she finished correcting him. He glared at him with complete hate.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two — "

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet.

* * *

Meanwhile, Andrew was sitting in the Charms classroom, near the window to the field.

"Today's class we will be learning the theory behind the spell Arresto Momentum. The basic idea of this charm is to slow down the velocity of an object. Usually it is more useful on vertically falling objects. The spell comes from the Anglo-French "arester", meaning to "bring to a stop", and the Latin "Momentum", meaning "the force or strength gained whilst moving". The literal translation is "bring its momentum to a stop".

Professor Flitwick continued explaining the history about the creation of this charm when Andrew spotted a broomstick going higher, and higher, and noticed that the rider of said broom was…

"NEVILLE!" shouted Andrew.

"Mr. Rivers, explain the reason of this outburst!" Flitwick looked at him, slightly stunned.

"Professor, Mr. Longbottom is flying way too high and I think he's about to fall!"

The whole class ran to the windows and Flitwick levitated some books to reach the window and see what was happening.

"Oh my!" said Professor Flitwick in a fearful tone. "Class, now you will see an unintended demonstration of the charm." Flitwick got his wand out and carefully pointed at Neville.

* * *

Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and —

" _Aresto Momentum!_ " a squeaky voice was heard and they saw Professor Flitwick performing a spell, slowing down Neville somewhat, but since the Charms professor couldn't see adequately, the charm subsided halfway.

WHAM — a thud was heard and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist, even with Filius's help…" Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Bulstrode joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well, even if his gripping was horrible. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears.

"What an idiot…" Ron heard Hermione say in irritation.

He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him — and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught — this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned. He didn't expect Potter to be a natural on a broom.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about- face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called, with a nasty grin of his own.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball

— wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — he stretched out his hand — a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never — in all my time at Hogwarts — "

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, " — how dare you — might have broken your neck — "

"It wasn't his fault, Professor — "

"Be quiet, Miss Patil — "

"But Malfoy — "

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it.

He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Quirrell, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

" _Wood?"_ thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him?

But Wood turned out to be a person who came out of Quirrell's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light — speedy — we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor — a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

* * *

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never — you must be the youngest House player in about — "

" — a century," said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too — Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go. Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little gorilla friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle but they did look as gorillas, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around.

"Excuse me Ron, but I will be Harry's second. You can be the third in line." Andrew appeared, glaring fully at the Slytherins.

"Who's your second, Scion Malfoy?" Andrew continued. Malfoy, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle noticed the formal addressing but Harry was clueless.

Malfoy looked at Andrew tensely, then looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? Well meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron, Andrew and Harry looked at each other.

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?" He asked Andrew and Ron.

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Sheesh, Ron, that's why I said I will be his second. I have a year advantage plus the spells I learned from dad's old books over him so if something happened I got it covered." He was about to sit down on the Ravenclaw table when they heard a bossy voice.

"Excuse me."

The three of them looked up. It was Hermione Granger. Andrew's ears and cheeks turned red.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying — "

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

" — and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor and Ravenclaw if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you." She glared slightly at the three of them, and Andrew's reddening subsided a bit.

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

The three of them walked towards the sixth floor, with Andrew planning different scenarios and telling them what to expect. Ron heard him attentively and commenting about other viable options. When they reached the sixth floor landing, Andrew bid them goodbye and told them he will wait them here at 11:30.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them. Andrew may know, though."

There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness — this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go. Andrew must be waiting…"

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy — he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so — "

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting.

The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not." Ron lashed angrily.

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve — " said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good — well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later — "

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward. They reached the sixth floor and Andrew was looking tense and he pointed his wand at them when he heard them.

"Finally, where you two have you… Why in the name of Merlin is Hermione and Neville with you?" Andrew glared at the quartet.

"I came because I wanted to stop these buffoons from getting caught by someone and lose points, and look who had been helping them! Then Neville and I got locked out of Gryffindor tower and decided to go with him" Hermione said in her nagging voice. Neville nodded nervously.

Andrew subdued a bit but continued. "I swear if we get captured…" He didn't finish the sentence, and they started walking carefully. They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry and Andrew expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped down a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump.

Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak — and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other four to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run — he trampled Andrew with his legs and tripped, at the same time Andrew grabbed Ron around the waist, and the three of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following — they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going — they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering. Andrew was gaping like a fish.

"I — told — you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I — told — you."

"We've got to get back to our respective towers," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's go." Andrew beckoned them.

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves — please — you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? And also a second year! Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please." Andrew pleaded.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a sanity voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves — this was a big mistake.

"You idiot! You shouldn't have done that!" bellowed Andrew.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, " _Alohomora"_

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.' "

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right — please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Andrew whispered.

"I think well be okay — get off Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

Harry turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob — between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

They fell backward — Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared — all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again. Hermione sat down at the last step of the staircase, gathering her breath. Andrew was on all fours breathing heavily, clutching his chest.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." Andrew pointed them out, before Hermione talked.

She stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed." She told the Fat Lady the password in a whisper and Neville and her entered the common room, leaving the portrait ajar for Harry and Ron.

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," Andrew said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?" He looked questioningly at Ron and Harry.

"She really needs to sort out her priorities." said Ron.

"Well, I must leave to Ravenclaw Tower now before I get caught. See you." Andrew scampered away and Harry and Ron entered the common room.

Hermione and Andrew had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide — except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault 713 was.


	13. Chapter 13 - This is Halloween

Chapter 13 – This is Halloween

 **Author's Note: Sorry I missed last Saturday's upload! I was jumping from emergency room to emergency room with my mother's anemia, my two cousins's flu, and her son's cold that got passed to my brother and me, making me unable to update. As a way to redeem myself, I'm uploading two chapters today. Shoutout to my new followers and the users who favorited the story: _Hands Off MY Wolfie_ , _longlongnights_ , _GM12_ , _ashir_ , _lisa li li_ , and _ORKCHILD_.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry, Andrew and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. Andrew was a bit more reluctant to go out like that but still was curious of what is under the trapdoor. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry, Andrew and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus, except to Andrew. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

 _ **DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.**_

 _ **It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.**_

 _ **Professor M. McGonagall**_

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

Harry called Andrew and they left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry and Andrew.

"Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus. I bet even your daddy won't buy you one!" Andrew said openly laughing.

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potters been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

"Quite well, Mr. Potter. Mr. Rivers, may I have a quick word with you?" Andrew told them to go up to Gryffindor Tower while he spoke with Professor Flitwick.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" Andrew asked in curiosity.

"Not at all, I just wanted to notify you that your father sent you also a broomstick, in a more private way of course. It's on your bedroom back on Ravenclaw Tower." Andrew was surprised that his dad had heard that he was made Reserve Keeper. He should write to his parents soon. Professor Flitwick continued after clearing his throat, effectively snapping Andrew out of his thought bubble.

"Also, the Charms club first reunion is in two days. I heard from Professor Snape that you are doing some private studies under him so if you can't come, please notify me beforehand. You are dismissed." Professor Flitwick walked back into the Great Hall while he sprinted to the dorm room.

Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team. ..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling — he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant… you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, and then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

"I already got explained the rules before. I haven't seen the balls yet, so

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So — that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," said Harry quickly. "So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air.

"Not bad, Potter. You'd make a fair Beater." Wood said impressed.

The Bludger came pelting towards Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team — the Weasley twins are ours — it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team." Harry nodded.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er — have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

"Never happened at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that." Harry slightly flinched at that.

"Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers — "

" — unless they crack my head open."

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers — I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and pressed the Hogwarts crest on the inner part of the lid of the trunk and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages — I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.

"Well, that's it — any questions?"

Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

* * *

Andrew was sitting on a typically unused table in one of the less frequented sections of the library, writing a letter to their parents.

 _ **Dear Mum and Dad (and Tony too),**_

 _ **This past month has been very interesting. Classes are going well, especially Potions (as usual) and Charms. Professor Flitwick was marveled that I taught a fourth year charm to 3 first years, and succeeded but nearly made them deplete their magical core into near exhaustion. He invited me to go to the Charms club in two days. Luckily there's no conflict with the extra Potions studies with Professor Snape. I am hanging out with my yearmates but also, I am frequenting companionship with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. There's a beautiful Gryffindor girl called Hermione Granger but I don't know how to proceed with her.**_

 _ **Thank you for the broomstick. I am still wondering how you knew that I got selected as a reserve. Perhaps being an Auror has its benefits. Dad, I want you to be on the lookout for suspicious stuff around the event of the Gringotts bank. I am suspecting that there's someone in school that's related to it.**_

 _ **Love, from Andrew**_

 _ **P.S. Harry received the parcel, mum, but he hasn't opened it yet. I should remind him about it.**_

* * *

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it — Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron heard Neville saying that he overheard Parvati telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

* * *

Andrew came down the stairway from the Owlery, where he sent his parents the letter with Odin. Gilbert and Cho were waiting him near the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Hey Andy, ready for the Halloween Feast?" asked Cho.

"Yeah, I am starving! Can't wait for the candy and all the good food!" exclaimed Andrew happily.

As he sat down, Marietta sprang up with Joseph and Lauren in tow, looking slightly breathless.

"Guys, guys, guess what I heard just a few minutes ago!" asked Marietta.

Everyone looked questioningly at Marietta and Gilbert decided to ask.

"What did you hear, O Great Gossiper?" Everyone giggled except her and she flashed a scowl towards him and proceeded to answer.

"Apparently Andy's crush had a row with Ron and she's crying in the bathroom near the dungeons. I heard it from the Gryffindor Patil twin."

Everyone looked at Andrew with different faces, from worry to uncomfortableness.

"I'll ask Ron what happened." Andrew awkwardly answered. "Let's go eat."

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately! Slytherins, stay here for your security."

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

The Ravenclaws were hot on their heels and Andrew reached the duo.

"What did you do Ronald?" Andrew spat at Ron, his anger apparent.

"What did I do?" asked Ron in a slightly panicked voice.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions towards the first floor.

"I heard from Marietta what you said to Hermione when exiting Charms." Andrew said, still annoyed.

As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs going downwards, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought — Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry and Andrew behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me."

"I think I am suspecting something, and I also think Snape knows what's going on… I'll have an eye on this corridor, you go ahead."

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Andrew and Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it — a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed — at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

"Yes!"

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage. Andrew came from the corridor in a slight sprint.

"Yes, Snape went towards the higher floors. What happened? Did you found the troll?" Andrew asked.

"Found it, we did. We just locked it inside…"

But as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop — a high, petrified scream — and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"You locked the troll there?!" Andrew shouted.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Hermione!" they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron and Andrew, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Andrew time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Andrew yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape. Andrew ran towards Hermione and pulled her into standing and tried to edge around the troll without it noticing. Harry, seeing that Ron was going to get plastered into the floor by the troll's club, decided he had to save his friend.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped — it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club. Andrew brought out his wand and shouted a spell quickly: " _Incarcerous!_ " Long ropes twisted around the troll, but the timing was off and only could wrap on one of the arms. The one wielding the club was free and still attempted to hit Harry with it.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright, pulling Andrew with her; Ron pulled out his own wand — not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: " _Wingardium Leviosa_ l"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over — and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. Andrew was looking aghast at the troll, who was out cold.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it — dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh — troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape and Flitwick, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Flitwick was looking at Andrew with slight apprehension. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry and Andrew a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Andrew used the Incarcerous spell and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well — in that case ..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

Hermione left.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick turned to Harry, Andrew and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor and Ravenclaw twenty points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go. Professor Flitwick will accompany you upstairs."

They hurried out of the chamber behind Flitwick and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"It was a miracle that we got forty points," Ron grumbled in a low tone.

"Thirty five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's." added Harry.

"Exactly, I thought McGonagall was going to expel us in the spot." Andrew said in a relieved tone.

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if you hadn't locked the thing in with her," Andrew reminded them.

At the sixth floor landing, Professor Flitwick left Andrew waiting while he escorted the duo to the seventh floor. They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered. Professor Flitwick had hobbled down to the sixth floor and looked sternly at Andrew.

"I am impressed once again, Mr. Rivers. Using spells ahead of your educational rank. Pray tell me how did you learn that one?" Professor Flitwick enquired.

"I learned it from my father. Y'know, since he's an Auror and everything…" Andrew said quietly, yet nervous.

"I see… It is still surprising that you have learned it. Take ten more points to Ravenclaw." Andrew was slightly cheerful but it waned when he still saw Flitwick's gaze. "Sadly, you did put your life at risk so you'll be having detention with me tomorrow evening. I will also inform your parents." Andrew was downcast… His first detention! Flitwick and Andrew walked to the Ravenclaw Tower's door and Flitwick answered the riddle and led him through.

The Gryffindor common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.


	14. Chapter 14 - The First Detention

Chapter 14 – The First Detention

 **Author's Note: I noticed that the story has 57 followers so it's a goal that has been achieved! Thank you for supporting it!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Andrew woke up the next morning still feeling downcast. He never had imagined he would've gotten a detention. He was the only of his dorm that had a clean slate until that day. McGonagall had given Jeremiah and Lauren detention two weeks ago because they were found snogging near the Astronomy Tower, which is off limits unless it's for classes, and Gilbert and Joseph were given detention by Snape because they were fooling around and blew up their cauldron last year.

"There goes my chance at Prefecthood…" Andrew sighed. One of Andrew's goals was to be made a Ravenclaw prefect and perhaps Head Boy, but usually Head Boys have been Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs.

He trekked down to the common room, slid off unsuspectingly and went to the Great Hall to have breakfast. Since it was a Friday, he already had packed the Beginner's Transfiguration book since he had only that class today and on the afternoon, he had a reunion with Snape for his extra Potions class and just after dinner, he had the detention with Flitwick.

He served himself a few slices of toast, some eggs and bacon and started eating it while he revised his Transfiguration essay. He had done it early in the week so he could revise the details when the due date was approaching. When he was about to finish and pack up, his owl Odin, had glided and landed on Andrew's shoulder. Odin extended its leg and Andrew unfurled the letter that was tied.

 _ **Dear Andrew,**_

 _ **It's nice to know that you're doing so well. We are very proud of you. We hope that your work ethic won't falter this year, since you have impressed Professor Snape in a quite big deal last year. Also, if old Professor Flitwick has personally asked you to join the club, it's a big honor.**_

 _ **It's good that you're expanding your social circle, yet I am worried about your recent escapade with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Flitwick has sent me a letter explaining me in what circumstances the professors had found you four yesterday. As an Auror's son, I hope you do use your common sense, and as my mentor in the DMLE will say: "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" You should've informed the prefect or a professor and they'll deal with it responsibly.**_

 _ **About your crush on the Granger girl, remember: everything will go as Fate intends to. Don't force anything or you'll just chase her away. I hope you've enjoyed the broomstick I sent you. You shouldn't be surprised since you know I have my own information net. That Zeus Lightning was released in Greece recently and it's quite good, it's nearly on the league of the Nimbus 2000, according to your uncle.**_

 _ **Lastly, about your suspicions, be very observant of the change in behavior of people. Report anything to me or your mother so you kids can be safe. Mum reminds you to tell Potter to open the parcel. It's some clothes and it has a bit of a surprise she had started working on.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Dad, Mum and Tony**_

The letter at least lifted his spirits a bit. He finished his breakfast early and since none of his friends were at the Great Hall, he started to walk to the Transfiguration Courtyard upstairs.

He sat on the bench until it was nearing the hour to enter Professor McGonagall's class. A few minutes later, his friends appeared from the hallway.

"Andy, why did you vanish so suddenly?" Joseph asked, with an oddly serious face. "This isn't like you."

"It's nothing, guys. Just not feeling well…" Andrew sighed deeply.

"You sure? I think something happened last night since you came late to the common room and with Professor Flitwick in tow." Cho continued.

The six pair of eyes landed on Andrew, who grew nervous quickly.

"I…I…Um…" Andrew stammered.

"I'm suspecting that Andrew did something wrong and he lost points." Marietta started, using her gossipy-like voice.

"I DID NOT LOSE POINTS! IN FACT, I WON SOME!" Andrew stood up angry. This had surprised the group. Andrew usually didn't rage or screamed at anyone.

Andrew picked up his bag, and trudged up the hallway and went to the Transfiguration classroom and he fully ignored his friends. He saw a space next to a Slytherin boy and decided to sit with him for the moment.

* * *

After Transfiguration, he placed the essay on McGonagall's desk and left quickly to the Great Hall to have a quick bite of lunch. Harry, Ron and Hermione came walking to the Gryffindor table, clearly that they came out from Potions class.

"Hermione, your hair still smells slightly singed." Ron pointed out.

"Well, it's not my fault that Dean's cauldron blew up because of Seamus's irresponsibility…" Hermione huffed while sitting down.

Harry started laughing and noticed Andrew was sitting with a very sour face and he pointed him to Ron and Hermione.

"Hi Andrew, how are you feeling?" Harry said.

"Not so good, guys. I've been feeling a bit down and angry. Flitwick gave me detention last night after dropping you three at Gryffindor Tower. It's tonight after dinner."

"But why?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Because I toed out of line after a conversation we had at the beginning of term." Andrew said sadly.

The trio looked at each other worriedly.

"It's okay guys…"

Hermione approached Andrew and hugged him.

"Thanks Andrew, for saving me." Andrew blushed slightly.

"S'fine. That's what friends do." Andrew smiled.

* * *

He finished his lunch and said his goodbyes to the trio and went walking to the dungeons, where Snape was waiting for the extra Potions class. He knocked on the door to the classroom and Professor Snape opened it.

"Welcome, Mr. Rivers. Please come in." Snape led Andrew inside, with a quite odd wobbly walk. A cauldron was already prepared, and the ingredients were set on the table.

"I assume that you know what we will be preparing today?" Snape asked.

"For what I see, I'm guessing that we're doing a Wiggenweld Potion." Andrew answered.

"Correct, Mr. Rivers. And as you could see in the Magical Drafts and Potions book, the ingredient preparation method is different to how we will do it today."

Andrew observed his book and read the instructions carefully.

 _ **Prepare a mixture of 1 pint of Horklump juice, 7 whole Chizpurfle fangs which will be grounded with a pestle, 1 sprig of mint (finely cut), Billywig sting slime, a whole stewed Mandrake, 15 Moondew drops, Sloth Brain mucus, a Unicorn horn (finely granulated) and Wolfsbane (diced). After the base potion is prepared, the following instructions are to be followed:**_

 _ **1\. Add salamander blood until the potion turns red.**_

 _ **2\. Stir until the potion turns orange.**_

 _ **3\. Add more salamander blood, this time until it turns yellow.**_

 _ **4\. Stir until the potion turns green.**_

 _ **5\. Add more salamander blood, until the potion turns turquoise.**_

 _ **6\. Heat until it turns indigo.**_

 _ **7\. Add more salamander blood, until the potion turns pink.**_

 _ **8\. Heat until the potion turns red.**_

 _ **9\. Add five lionfish spines.**_

 _ **10\. Heat until the potion turns yellow.**_

 _ **11\. Add five more lionfish spines.**_

 _ **12\. Add flobberworm mucus, until the potion turns purple.**_

 _ **13\. Stir until it turns red.**_

 _ **14\. Add more flobberworm mucus, this time until it turns orange**_

 _ **15\. Stir until it turns yellow.**_

 _ **16\. Add honey water until it turns back to a turquoise color.**_

 _ **17\. Add a few drops of boom berry juice.**_

 _ **18\. Stir the potion again, and then let it simmer for thirty minutes.**_

 _ **19\. Take the potion away from the heat and allow it to cool, when it is cool it is ready to use.**_

"What are the modifications we are going to do, Professor?"

"The modifications will be mostly in the second part of the recipe. We can shorten the process if we adjust the instances where the flobberworm mucus and the salamander blood are deposited in the cauldron. Since I was informed that you have a detention later, I already made an ample batch of the first part. I want you to determine in which order you should put the mucus and the changes."

Andrew proceeded to prepare the different variation methods in his usual methodically meticulous way. He made four different runs and left parchment rolls near the cauldrons with the annotations made. While the test potions were left to simmer for thirty minutes, Professor Snape was at his desk looking at him searchingly.

"Mr. Rivers, come here for a second." Snape said, beckoning him with his hand.

"Is something wrong?" Andrew asked dubiously.

"I wanted to ask about the events that transpired last night." Snape looked at Andrew questioningly. "Miss Granger's story is more than a half truth. Tell me why you, Granger, Potter and Weasley were there instead going to your respective common rooms."

Andrew knew that he couldn't lie to Snape. He couldn't lose his trust of his favorite professor. He thoroughly explained what happened that night that led them to the encounter with the troll.

"So, knowing that there was a troll on the loose, you didn't notify a prefect or a teacher that Miss Granger was missing. Am I right?" Andrew nodded meekly. Snape sighed. "If you were in my house, Mr. Rivers, you'd be having two weeks of detention instead of one day as Professor Flitwick assigned. You are a second year and also my best student. You should be the one reigning Potter and Weasley's antics. I am very disappointed, Mr. Rivers."

Andrew bowed his head in shame.

"Alright, let's finish for the now. I have the Gryffindor-Slytherin fifth years in twenty minutes. Observe the test cauldrons and write down the changes and if they're finished, pour in a vial and leave it on the desk. If it hasn't finished, apply a Stasis charm and tomorrow, you'll revise it. After collecting the data, write me a two feet essay about the effects of the modifications. You may leave after cleaning your station."

Snape went to his desk and grabbed the essays that he was marking during the time and hobbled carefully outside.

" _That's odd…_ " though Andrew, his brow furrowed. He cleaned thoroughly and stoppered 3 out of the 4 potions. He applied the stasis charm to the cauldron and left the room. Exiting the dungeons, he was pinned by Gilbert and Joseph.

"Finally found you, Andy!" exclaimed Gilbert.

"What is going on with you? You ran out on us like a territorial Erumpent and didn't speak to us all day!" Joseph continued.

"It's a bit of a trouble I am having and such." Andrew answered, without looking at any of the two's eyes.

"C'mon mate, we're friends! And friends are supposed to help each other!" Joseph sighed.

"I got a detention with Flitwick tonight." Andrew said, while he sighed in defeat.

"That's what's having you with your knickers in a knot?" Gilbert guffawed. Andrew bonked him on his head with his Transfiguration book.

"YES, that's it. Any problems?!" Andrew proclaimed in clear alteration.

"Calm down, mate. It was bound to happen someday!" Joseph replied while starting to walk to the Great Hall. It was still early so they decided to start their Astronomy charts.

After a plentiful dinner, Andrew left his friends and walked to the third floor to Flitwick's office, until he saw someone walking towards the Forbidden Corridor. He went into the unused classroom next to Flitwick's Charms classroom and peeked to see who was. A hooded figure was skulking around, and checked the door but scampered towards the second floor after hearing some steps.

Professor Flitwick was coming down from the fourth floor. He exited the classroom and waited him next to the office door.

"Ah, Mr. Rivers, glad that you're on time. Please enter."

Andrew entered Flitwick's office and was marveled at the massive quantity of books and items he had. A silver trophy captured his eye and walked towards it in awe and saw the engraving in the base:

 **Filius Flitwick**

 **Champion - 135** **th** **British Dueling Circuit**

 **Year: 1965**

"I see that you're impressed by the trophy, Mr. Rivers." Flitwick said smiling. "That was my last trophy in the Dueling Circuit before I started in Hogwarts as the Charms master."

"How many circuits you had won, Professor?" Andrew asked in unmasked curiosity, sitting down in the bench near the desk.

"That was my 17th one. Alas, I'll tell you the story another time. We have a detention to do. For today, you will write 150 lines reading: " **I will not act unless I tell a superior.** " The parchment is there, you will use your quill. Begin." Andrew began writing carefully the lines and after two hours, he had finished the lines. Professor Flitwick was satisfied and escorted Andrew back to Ravenclaw Tower, where he promptly fell asleep, and his uniform still on.


	15. Chapter 15 - The Quidditch Face-Off

Chapter 15 – The Quidditch Face-Off

 **Author's Note: We're nearly half way or two thirds into the story! I haven't decided when to end the fanfic but I expect to be around chapter 20-22. Shout-out to my new followers and users who had favorited the story: _HedgeWizard_ , _jrzygurl89_ , _The-Weird-Muggleborn-Girl_ , _Alexandrephenix_ , and _hannahisabannana_.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

As they entered the second week of November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the House Championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse — people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last- minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him _**Quidditch Through the Ages**_ , which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Andrew and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar.

They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape looking at them sourly. "I'll let it slide for now."

Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to and wander off for a bit.

He made his way down to the second floor, where the staffroom was located and saw Snape going in, limping. There was no sound whatsoever. He started to eavesdrop by placing his ear near the keyhole. Suddenly, Andrew appeared from the neighboring corridor, looking exhausted.

"Hello Harry, it's very odd meeting you here." Andrew said, looking at Harry weirdly, like if he were very out of place.

"I'm looking for Professor Snape… Err… for something. I think he's inside…" Harry said nervously.

"I'm also looking for him. I have to hand in an essay for the extra Potions. I'll go with you."

Harry didn't know how to proceed. Perhaps Snape had left from there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside — and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but Andrew gasped —

"POTTER! RIVERS!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.

"I… Um..." stammered Harry.

"Professor, I was looking for you to give you the essay -"

"GIVE ME THAT AND GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry and Andrew left, before Snape could take any points from their houses. They sprinted back upstairs, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for Harry.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked as Harry and Andrew joined them.

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No — he wouldn't," Andrew said. "I know he's not the nicest person to you guys, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe. Besides, I suspect someone else."

"Who do you suspect?" Harry asked in amazement.

"I think the one behind this is Quirrell." Andrew stated. "I saw someone skulking the day of my detention around the third floor, near Flitwick's classroom. Besides, wouldn't the Defense teacher know how to stop a troll? It seems awfully fishy to me…"

"Andrew, I think he couldn't be the one either…" Hermione said nervously.

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I suspect Snape but Andrew's suspicion is also valid. But the biggest question is: what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind — he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours — but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

* * *

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Andrew, Ron and Hermione left Harry near the locker rooms and went to the stands stairways. Andrew went towards the area designated for Ravenclaw while the other two ran up the Gryffindor contingent.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too — "

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain

Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's

Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a

Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed —

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating — "

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul — "

"Jordan, I'm warning you — "

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, when it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts — he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out — and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — oh no ..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

* * *

"Well, it seems that Wood has assembled a nice team this year." Jeremiah pointed out.

"Indeed, the team looks pretty solid. Even the Potter boy is a big surprise…" Joseph affirmed.

"Talking about Potter, what is going on with his broom?" Cho asked.

"What is going with his broom?" Andrew asked, taking Lauren's binoculars.

Andrew looked up and saw that Harry's Nimbus was acting like a muggle mechanical bull, and Harry's hold won't work longer. His Auror senses wont on overdrive and he looked westward towards the teacher's section. He saw Snape looking at Harry, like he was chanting deeply.

" _It can't be…_ " Andrew thought. He kept searching and in the last set of benches in the top, Professor Quirrell was also glaring at Harry and also chanting.

"Bingo, right at the bullseye!" Andrew jumped and ran away towards the walkway joining to the teacher's box.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Joseph asked.

"To save someone!" Andrew shouted, pushing various housemates away.

* * *

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom ... but he can't have. ..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid 's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape — look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Hermione, while searching for Andrew. She spotted him running out, and she deduced that he also saw something.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to Andrew and me."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good — every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, you guys," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, when in the walkway below it she bumped straight into Andrew.

"Hermione, it's Quirrell!" Andrew said huffing out of air.

"I saw Professor Snape chanting something. I think he's jinxing the broom!" Hermione replied.

"I thought that when I saw Professor Snape, but in the top bench, Quirrell's chanting too!"

Hermione looked deeply conflicted. She looked at the determined face of Andrew.

"Mione, hear me out for once, it's Quirrell. I'm sure of it. C'mon, let's climb up these boxes and do something to save Harry!"

Andrew helped Hermione up and found a bit of Quirrell's robe hanging. Hermione pulled out her wand and whispered: " _Lacarnum Inflamare_ " and the blue fire shot out of her wand and onto the robe. It took perhaps thirty seconds for Quirrell to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row — he would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field on all fours — coughed — and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Andrew and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

"Actually, it wasn't Professor Snape, Ron." Andrew replied back softly.

"Yes, Ronald. Andrew's right. It's Quirrell's fault. Snape was performing the counterjinx to save Harry.

"Wha' is this commotion 'bout Quirrell now? A pr'fessor can't be that evil!" Hagrid said, slightly annoyed by the conspiracy theories.

Harry, Andrew, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about Snape," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to stop whoever was trying steal whatever it's guarding, but the plan backfired."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah — he's mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the — "

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape and Quirrell both are Hogwarts teachers, both'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape and Quirrell.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Andrew said that Quirrell wasn't blinking at all!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Quirrell wouldn' try an' kill a student! Besides, he's a scaredy cat!"

Hagrid stood up.

"Now, listen to me, all four of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel — "

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.


	16. Chapter 16 - Mirror, mirror on the wall

Chapter 16 – Mirror, mirror on the wall

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the late update! Since the page didn't let anyone upload at all so, here you go! Shoutout to _teebeutel35_ , _Buckuss_ , and _Bulldogsbecause._**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the

Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Andrew was also staying, because his mom was going to visit her sister and her 4 nephews and her niece at the United States.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found Andrew coming down from Transfiguration and then, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead, near the Great Hall. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. And Malfoy, five points from Slytherin also. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy had his mouth agape, like a fish. Snape never took points off from his own house! Harry, Ron, Hermione and Andrew were smiling as if Christmas came earlier than normal. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and openly glaring.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him — "

"Calm down Ron, at least Snape docked points to him too!" Harry said happily.

"Come on, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Andrew.

"And that reminds me — Harry, Ron, Andrew, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly.

"Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here — I've told yeh — drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Quirrell was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _ **Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century**_ , or _ **Notable Magical Names of Our Time**_ ; he was missing, too, from _ **Important Modern Magical Discoveries**_ , and _ **A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry**_. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Andrew had checked the books inside the Ravenclaw common room library, but he hadn't found anything worthwhile. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on — out!"

Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk any teacher hearing what they were up to.

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other three had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, Andrew, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione. Andrew snorted.

* * *

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork — bread, English muffins, marshmallows — and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work. Andrew, on the other hand, kept researching on his free time.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family — in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him." Andrew tried to challenge Ron but Ron had steamrolled him. He tried his hand against Harry and Harry barely beat him.

"I hate wizard chess…" sighed Andrew. Ron promised to teach Andrew and Harry some of his techniques.

* * *

On the twenty third of December, Andrew woke up early. His owl, Odin was waiting by the window sill, with a letter and a parcel. Andrew walked and opened the letter first.

 _ **Dear Andrew,**_

 _ **Happy birthday! I hope you have a wonderful thirteenth birthday! I had left a letter home before we left for your aunt Nancy's home, but Odin flew all the way here. Poor owl must be tired when he reaches you. Your cousins are well and are back home for the winter vacation from Ilvermorny at the time. Tony is enjoying the time here, and we're frequenting the nearby Muggle town. It was pure luck that your father could get a Portkey to the States, but his Auror job had helped a lot. I will send the Christmas presents for Harry and you through Professor McGonagall's Floo. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Mum, Dad and Tony.**_

He quickly picked up the parcel and opened the wrapping, revealing a book on Native American potions. He couldn't wait to show Professor Snape! Since he was the only one from his year staying in the Ravenclaw dorm, he had a better access to the books and started to read up and research on the potions.

He walked down towards Professor McGonagall's office in the second floor on his way to lunch.

"Hello, Mr. Rivers. I have received the presents your mother sent for Mr. Potter and yourself. Here you go." Professor McGonagall gave him the two parcels, which he stowed in his bag. After eating lunch, he walked to the dorm room and deposited the presents in his wardrobe.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was _**To Harry, from Hagrid.**_

Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it — it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

 _ **We received your message and enclose your Christmas present.**_

 _ **From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia**_.

Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" he said, "What a shape! This is money?"

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and — oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand- knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

His next present also contained candy — a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed.

"I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want — " said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

On the way down, Andrew was just walking down the sixth floor corridor when he bumped into Harry and Ron, wearing a blue Weasley jumper with a yellow A in the front.

"Merry Christmas, mates!" Andrew greeted them. He was carrying two parcels for Harry and one for Ron. "Here you go, my presents for you two!"

Harry opened up his first present, which was sent by Mrs. Rivers and found a scarf in Gryffindor colors and a pair of mittens.

"Mum sent that scarf because she knows you don't have much clothes that fit you…" Andrew had realized something. "Oh! That reminds me! You should open the parcel she sent you nearly two months ago! She told me she had a surprise within it." Harry remembered about the parcel, since he was so hyped by the broomstick, he forgot completely of it and had stashed it in his wardrobe.

Harry then proceeded to open the other present: a quill and ink set. Ron had received a set of Muggle chess with the pieces made of glass. Ron was marveled at the present. Ron had run back to the dorm to drop the presents at their respective beds and returned to them, going in the direction of the Great Hall.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce — and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside.

Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry, Andrew and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room (Percy had let him infiltrate due to the occasion), where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

Harry and Ron invited Andrew to their room and when they got there, Andrew sat down at the foot of Neville's bed. Harry opened his wardrobe and two parcels fell to the floor. Harry recognized one as the one Mrs. Rivers had sent but the other was from unknown origins.

Harry unwrapped the rather big parcel and found three daily wear robes, a set of underwear and shirts and two pants. At the bottom of the box, a rather large envelope was placed. Harry collected the envelope and opened it with a swift movement.

Inside, he found three pictures. One contained Andrew's parents, Mr. Rivers as a seventh year and Mrs. Rivers as a third year standing with a group of four teenagers. The six characters in the portrait were smiling and waving happily.

"I wonder who these guys are…" Harry asked himself. Andrew shrugged in obvious confusion.

The second one was a picture of Mrs. Rivers, approximately in her sixth year and a redheaded girl, who were smiling widely.

The last pictured showed a dark haired man, with round glasses, similar to Harry's dressed in fancy robes and the woman with fiery red hair, dressed in a wedding gown.

"Could this be…?" Andrew started. Harry swallowed deeply and his eyes were starting to tear.

Andrew unfurled the piece of parchment inside the envelope. "There's a note from Mum."

 _ **Dear Harry,**_

 _ **I hope you are doing well in your first year. Your parents would've been proud of you. I collected these images and sent it to you as a present since I guess you have never seen your parents. The first of the three pictures were in my old school trunk. It was the year when my husband was graduating from Hogwarts and I was a third year.**_

 _ **The other four persons are you father James and his best friends: Sirius Orion Black, Remus John Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, all as second years. During the summer, I will talk to you about them.**_

 _ **The next picture is your mother and I, when she got selected as a fellow Gryffindor prefect in her fifth year. She was a gentle soul and a very wise woman. She was quite adept with Charms and Potions.**_

 _ **The last picture is the most special one. It was taken on the day of their wedding. Your father had chased your mother since first year and she gave him a chance on their sixth year during Easter term. When the year ends, I will tell you stories about your parents if you wish so.**_

 _ **Enjoy your presents and have a Merry Christmas,**_

 _ **Mrs. Rivers**_

Harry's eyes started to dampen and one or two tears of happiness escaped his eyes. He placed the pictures on his night table and sat down on his bed. He noticed that this only left one parcel to open. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is — they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," said Andrew, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is — try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron and Andrew gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

 _ **Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.**_

 _ **Use it well.**_

 _ **A Very Merry Christmas to you.**_

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Harry snapped out of his daydream and went down to the common room with Ron to accompany Andrew to the exit and then returned to the room. It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all evening. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's ... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back — his father's cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wanted to use it alone.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor. Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the table, on top of the cloak, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence — the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside — stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He pulled his invisibility cloak and his lamp crashed onto the floor.

He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears. He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library; he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

He went down the corridor and stumbled upon a very suspicious scene. Snape was pinning down Quirrell to the wall. Harry had distanced himself from them. He may be invisible but he wasn't intangible. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I — "

Harry gasped. Snape turned to the source of the noise and tried to grasp where he heard it, but Harry had tiptoed to the side beforehand. Snape closed his hand and dramatically twisted back to face Quirrell.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you — "

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

Suddenly, Filch came running from the same corridor Harry came, carrying Harry's broken lantern.

"Professors, you asked me to come directly to you if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library — Restricted Section. And look." Filch presented the lantern to Snape. "It's still hot."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch, Quirrell and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed — for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared- looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirrors trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. His mother was standing right behind his reflection, and she was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air — she and the others existed only in the mirror.

" _Her eyes do look like mine…_ " Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. Then, his father had come near her, putting one of his arms around her waist.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees — Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses.

He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

* * *

The next morning, Harry, Andrew and Ron were eating breakfast together. Harry was retelling the story of what had transpired last night.

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.

"And I want to see both your families, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if someone stole it, really?

"Are you all right?" said Andrew. "You look odd."

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Andrew covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."

"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here — just here — yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything." Ron replied.

"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them..."

"I can only see you." Andrew added.

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry and Andrew stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, Harry couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image. "Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No — I'm alone — but I'm different — I look older — and I'm Head Boy!"

"What?" Harry said.

Andrew started to look at the mirror questioningly from where he stood.

"I am — I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to — and I'm holding the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup — I'm Quidditch captain, too!"

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead — let me have another look — "

"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch Cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me — "

"Guys, stop this!" Andrew hushed both of them. "Look at this inscription."

Harry glanced at the inscription around the top. Andrew took out a piece of parchment and a quill from a pocket and wrote the engraving, trying to get what it meant.

"I… show… not… your face… but your… hearts… desire..." Andrew recited slowly. "Hmmm, your heart's desire eh?"

Andrew pushed Ron lightly out of the way and stepped in front of the mirror with his eyes closed. Andrew braced himself and opened his eyes slowly.

The reflection of himself was obviously taller and older. He was wearing a prefect and a Head Boy badge, similarly as Ron had seen in his reflection, but he was holding a piece of paper. He squinted his eyes to read what the paper said and was surprised.

 _ **The British Ministry of Magic**_

 _ **Minister Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Order of Merlin Second Class**_

 _ **Department of Magical Education**_

 _ **Griselda Marchbanks, Representative**_

 _ **The department proudly bestows the degree in Mastery in Potions to:**_

 _ **Andrew Rivers**_

 _ **For his successful achievements in the field of Potion-making.**_

 _ **Signed,**_

 _Cornelius O. Fudge_ _ **, Minister**_

 _Griselda Marchbanks_ _ **, Representative**_

 _Amelia Bones_ _ **, Department of Magical Law Enforcement**_

 _Severus T. Snape_ _ **, Master in Potions**_

His eyes widened when he saw Professor Snape, his parents and his younger brother behind his reflection, very happy with his achievement. Then he noticed something on his reflection's hand: a silver ring with a bluish gem on it. And from his left he saw a distinctly beautiful woman. He closed his eyes and sidestepped out of the mirror's range. He knew who that person would be…

"What did you see, Andy?" Harry asked curiously.

"I got my mastery in potions and Professor Snape and my family was happy…" He left the sentence hanging. "This mirror shows the thing we desire the most, basically."

Harry and Ron thought deeply about it. A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron, Andrew and Harry stood quite still, thinking the same thing — did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe — she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron and Andrew pulled Harry out of the room. They ran through a passageway that would direct them near the Ravenclaw Tower entrance, dropped Andrew and left for Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No... you go..."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it — and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Quirrell, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and no one wouldn't stop him.

That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except —

"So — back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

"I — I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It — well — it shows me my family — "

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy."

"How did you know — ?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly what Andrew had discovered, "I show not your face but your heart's desire…"

"Indeed Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. Andrew Rivers, on the other hand, had seen himself as a Master Potioneer, married and receiving praise from his family."

Harry glanced towards the mirror.

"However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir — Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared in obvious confusion.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.


	17. Chap 17 - The Search for Nicolas Flamel

Chapter 17 – The Search for Nicolas Flamel

 **Author's Note: We're getting soon to the end of this fanfic! Shoutout to the new followers/favorites/reviewers: _Meester Lee_ , _jdysbl_ , and _grangergee._**

 **Author's Note 2: When I uploaded last week's chapter on Tuesday, something happened on the fanfic that chapter 7 was substituted with chapter 3, but a reviewer called Insatiable Readr pointed it out to me and was quickly fixed. Thank you!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!**

* * *

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told him about these dreams. Andrew was deeply worried about Harry. He wrote to his mother in counsel of what to do. His mother counseled him to keep tabs on him, as a precaution.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry and Andrew were still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry and Andrew had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Ravenclaw had beaten Hufflepuff already last term and the next match was against Slytherin in two weeks. Captain Marchbanks was making both the main team and the reserve team train hard. On the other hand, Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words, falling into the mud.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch. ...

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concentra…" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry ... I think I'll go to bed. ... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever — "

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione.

"I've found him\" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here — listen to this:

' _ **Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of**_

 _ **the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the**_

 _ **discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his**_

 _ **work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'**_

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry and Ron.

"Oh, honestly , don't you two read? Look — read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and

Ron read:

 _ **The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.**_

 _ **There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).**_

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Quirrell's after it! Anyone would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that _**Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry**_ ," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly picked up their things, dropped them in their respective rooms and ran out of the common room. They raced down the corridor to the sixth floor and ran up the corridor they usually dropped Andrew towards Ravenclaw tower. At the last stairway they encountered Professor Flitwick exiting the Ravenclaw common room and was surprised to see them

"Well this is an unexpected surprise, Messrs. Potter and Weasley, and you too Miss Granger. Are you looking for someone?"

"Yes Professor, we were looking for Andrew." Hermione replied, already recovering her breath.

"Very well, I'll look for him now. Wait here." Flitwick entered back to the common room and five minutes later, Andrew and Flitwick came outside. "Here he is. Please remember to be by curfew at your common rooms!" Flitwick walked down the stairs humming softly.

"Hey, what's with the rush, mates?" Andrew asked in curiosity.

"Because of this." Harry showed Andrew the Chocolate Frog Card and he read it quickly. His eyes grew when he noticed that Flamel was mentioned.

"Is… Is this where you remembered seeing it before?" Andrew asked, his mouth agape.

"Yes, and Hermione found what is behind Flamel!" Ron added, pointing at Hermione and the book she was holding. She held the book in front of her for him to read the signalled passage.

"So the item that Hagrid brought from Gringotts and someone tried to steal was the fabled Sorcerer's Stone?" Andrew asked.

"Most likely. And that's what's hidden in the third floor's corridor!" Hermione answered with conviction. The four of them went to plan to the library.

* * *

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told Ron and Hermione. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them ... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron, Andrew and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could — yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Andrew, Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Andrew decided to go with them this match. He already told Gilbert and Joseph of his whereabouts. Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse, thanks to Andrew's tutoring. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready

to use it on anyone if someone showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag." Andrew bonked Ron on the head with the hilt of his wand.

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even — blimey — Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape or anyone would dare to try to hurt him or be unfair if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look — they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the

Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money — you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something. Maybe you should ask Rivers or Granger to give you some of their humongous ones."

Ron and Andrew's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy — one more word — "

"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry — !"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help. Andrew seeing that Crabbe and Goyle were going to overwhelm Neville, he snapped up and used the curse on both, successfully tumbling them to the floor and then proceeded to start hitting them.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape — she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Andrew, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand. The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it — the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped — then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror… been keeping busy… excellent..."

Snape spat bitterly on the ground and glared towards Dumbledore's general direction. Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broom shed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now — no one could say he was just a famous name any more.

* * *

The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron, Andrew and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed and Andrew with a black eye.

Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor was finally in the lead. He'd done it, he'd shown Snape. After all, he's really not that suspicious of him anymore.

And speaking of suspicious…

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. Someone was sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner — what was going on?

Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw the hooded person, who surprisingly was Quirrell, since the hood flitted back, enter the forest at a run. He followed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where he had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy grove, he stopped dead in his tracks. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Master..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said someone, his voice icy. "

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Master, I — "

It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

"N-no M-master… I have not obtained that piece of information. D-D-Dumbledore has the one who knows in some s-s-secrecy vow or something…"

* * *

Andrew had just been strolling back from the Quidditch Pitch when Harry came out of the broom shed after putting his broom up. The child looked wary and unsure, glancing back to the door as if expecting someone to follow in after him at any moment. "Harry?" Andrew tilted his head, following after Harry. "Are you alright?"

"I... I don't know." The child tugged at his robes, fixing them after being replaced by the Quidditch uniform. "I went to put my broom in the shed and I saw Quirrell heading into the forest. I don't- I followed. I mean, I was a bit worried, you know? It's forbidden- Why would he be going in there in the first place! It was just weird too, why do it right after a Quidditch game? Why act so strange and-" Andrew sighed, slowing down so Harry could walk side by side with him.

"Explain what happened. Slowly. Calmly. You're rambling." Taking a deep breath, Harry allowed Andrew to help and nudge him into his robes correctly, not looking much bothered by the action.

"Right. I followed him on my broom over the forest- I mean, I wasn't breaking any rules, right? I didn't actually go into the forest, I just skimmed over it on my broom, so, didn't break the rules, right?" Andrew thought it was very ingenious before nodding along and prodding Harry to sit on the bench. "Right, so I followed after him, and he was meeting someone. I mean, I think he was. Quirrell looked pretty terrified. But they started talking and the voice said how he wanted privacy because students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone."

"The stone? They were talking about the stone?" And actually, now that Andrew thought about it, Harry seemed a bit shaken up. "Are you alright?"

I don't- They were talking about the stone, and the mysterious man asked if Quirrell knew how to get past that 'beast of Hagrid's', and then he said something that I didn't quite hear, When... When they walked away, my scar hurt. A lot."

"When... When they walked away?" That didn't make sense. "Are you sure it wasn't while they were there? Or maybe while they were still going into the forest?" It must have been bad, if Harry was still pale. There was also the occasional tremor going through him. "You're quite sure you're okay? You look peaky."

"I'm fine. I'll tell Ron and Hermione as soon I reach Gryffindor Tower." Harry answered with a sigh. They walked together and on the sixth floor they split apart, Andrew going towards Ravenclaw Tower and Harry ran to Gryffindor, when he found Ron and Hermione standing by the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle and Andrew came in to help and used the curse on both! Neville is still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right — talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George brought some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. ..."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and someone's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that the stranger needs to break through — "

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up or retracts his help to that unknown person?" said Hermione in alarm.

"Andrew still suspects that Quirrell is the culprit but probably deduced the same, I reckon. Although he did seemed surprised at Snape's attitude with the game…" Harry answered carefully.

Ron gave a big groan. "Oh, bloody hell. At that rate, it'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.


	18. Chapter 18 - Norbert the Dragon

Chapter 18 – Norbert the Dragon: Hagrid's New Pet?

 **Author's Note: Well, we're five chapters off from the end! As a celebratory present and as a cautionary measure, today it's a double upload. The reason behind the cautionary measure is because rumors are going around social media that the Electric Energy Authority (AEE being the acronym in Spanish) has rumored that there will be random blackouts throughout the island because there is not much money left to buy petroleum to energise the system. I'll do my best to finish the last three chapters left before February ends or at least, mid-March. And, as usual, shoutouts to the new followers/favorites/reviewers: _whiteoaks_ , _bookivore_ , _Tabbycat1220_ , _Slashfangrl_!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!**

* * *

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, Andrew and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same. Andrew also had started to study for his exams. He was determined to be on the top three on all of his classes. Potions wasn't that difficult to reach, since Andrew was Snape's favorite.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me."

"'Mione, relax, it's okay to review but don't go overboard. The exams are easy, believe me." Andrew replied absentmindedly, the four of them entering the library.

Hermione stopped and turned in the spot, looking at Andrew questioningly.

""Mione?" She asked in a skeptical tone. Andrew flinched at her question.

"I… Err… Um…" Andrew stammered, his ears turning as red as Ron's hair.

"No… I mean… it's okay. You three can call me 'Mione if you want" Hermione smiling at them, slightly relaxing.

* * *

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione was before. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones.

It was hard to relax with all the essays and reviews the professors gave to the four of them. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with Andrew and her, trying to get through all their extra work. Andrew was giving them tips on the classes he was excelling on.

"If it weren't for you Andy, I'd never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, scribbling down with his quill and occasionally looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who was looking up " _Dittany_ " in **One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi** , didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St — "

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy — "

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen — come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh — "

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd decided to take a break of working.

"I'm going with you, Ronnie." Andrew replied.

Ron came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons'." he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid 's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him," said Harry.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden — anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

Andrew came up with two books under his arm. "Harry, look! A book on the procedures on the Wizengamot and an etiquette book for heirs!"

He handed Harry both books. Ron looked at Andrew weirdly. "Why you're teaching Harry about this stuff anyways?"

Andrew went into full educational mode. "Harry is the sole heir of the Potter estate, and since he was brought up as a Muggle, he doesn't know anything about his family legacy or his position in the Wizarding world."

Ron still looked questioningly at him, like if he'd grown another head or something but he let it slide. "Well, if it's for Harry's own good, well we should help him on our spare time too." Hermione, as usual, was motivated on learning more stuff, especially if it's about the magical world.

Ron showed him the books where Hagrid was browsing earlier and they were thinking that it was a bit more mysterious than usual. They were determined to ask him about it.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate.

Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which everyone but Andrew refused.

"So — yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry, Andrew and Ron beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that ... let's see ... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall — " he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Snape — Professor Vector — Professor Babbling — Professor Sinistra an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Quirrell."

"Quirrell?"

"Yeah — yer still suspecting a professor? Look, Quirrell helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knew Andrew, Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously.

"And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's that?" Andrew asked in surprise.

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er ..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library — Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridge-back. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words:

 _ **It's hatching.**_

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing — "

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break.

When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited. "Glad ter see you here. Come in." He ushered them inside. "An' where's Andy?" Hagrid asked.

"He's still in class." Harry told Hagrid. Something shook behind them.

"It's nearly out." The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face — he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains — it's a kid — he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

* * *

Andrew couldn't find Harry, Ron or Hermione anywhere so he deduced that they were at Hagrid's at the moment. Suddenly, he saw Malfoy running from the hut.

" _Could he'd seen the egg or the dragon in the hut?"_ he thought. He hid behind one of the statues near the entrance and when he was nearby he sent a whispered tripping jinx towards him.

Malfoy had fallen face first. Andrew then he approached him and flicked his wand with a quick _Incarcerous_.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in." Andrew smirked, towering over Malfoy.

"What do you want, you blood traitor?" Malfoy spat, noticing Andrew.

"I noticed that you were running from Hagrid's. Did you see something and went to squeal on him?" Andrew inquired.

"Trying to save that oaf and your buddies' hides, huh Rivers? I saw the dragon. He'll be in trouble for sure." Malfoy sneered evilly.

"Well, not on my watch." Andrew produced a vial of a clear orange potion. "Do you know what this is, Scion Malfoy?"

"No, I do not." Malfoy did indeed know what potion Andrew had in his hand. He was getting scared.

"This is a Forgetfulness potion. You do know that this potion does, as you're obviously flinching." Andrew grinned evilly.

"Since I am not that crazy enough to attempt an _Obliviate_ , this modified one should do the trick. You'll forget the last half hour and since this potion is untraceable, it'll be perfect."

Malfoy tried to force himself out of the bindings but Andrew made him drink the potion. The vial fell on Malfoy's cloak pocket. Malfoy got knocked out and helped him carry him to the Hospital Wing.

"Madam Pomfrey, help!" Andrew rushed in, with Malfoy on his shoulder.

"Mr. Rivers, what happened to Mr. Malfoy?" She asked, in clear panic.

"He was running from outside and he didn't see the statue in the entrance hall and he banged headfirst. I think he's unconscious." Andrew said. Since he used the tripping charm and Malfoy fell, there's still evidence of him hitting his head, so the story can be valid.

"Place him in this bed. Thanks for helping a fellow student, Mr. Rivers." She dismissed him and he was smirking along the way. He could be as sneaky as a Slytherin when he wanted to.

On his way down to the Great Hall, he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione rushing up from Hagrid's hut.

"Andrew, did you see Malfoy?" Hermione asked, in slight panic.

"I suspected he had seen something and I stopped him on his way in. I used a tripping jinx then a quick _Incarcerous_ and then made him tell me his plan." Andrew said in a matter of fact tone. "Did the dragon hatch from the egg?"

"Yeah, the dragon hatched. It's a Norwegian Ridgeback." Ron informed Andrew. Hermione was biting her lip nervously and was looking at Andrew.

"But Andrew, what did you do to him?"

"After making him tell, I force fed him an untraceable version of a Forgetfulness Potion. I have the bottle he…" Andrew suddenly panicked. He remembered the vial had fallen on Malfoy's lap.

"You did WHAT?!" Hermione exclaimed anxiously.

"I know what I did was irresponsible, but there's no going back now. I also lost the vial and I suspect Malfoy is in possession of it." The four of them gulped and looked at each other with grim faces.

* * *

Malfoy stirred in the bed in the Hospital Wing. He felt like if he had been hit by a raging Erumpent herd.

"Ugh, where am I?"

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, glad you are awake. Do you remember what happened to you?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Uh, no… I can't remember quite well…" Malfoy said dazed.

"Tsk tsk tsk… It is probably because of the hit against the statue. Thank goodness Mr. Rivers found you." Malfoy's eyes closed half way, as if the mention of Andrew was triggering a memory or something, but he couldn't recall anything at all.

"I'll have to do a scan to see if there aren't any concussions or anything worse."

She waved her wand in an intricate pattern and the results were written on a piece of parchment on the night table next to the bed.

"It seems nothing bad is going on. You can leave now, Mr. Malfoy. Any problems that may surge, feel free to drop by." With that, she left to her office. When he rose from her bed, a clink had sounded near his feet. An empty vial fell from his cloak pocket.

He bent over and picked it up. He tried to smell if there was any residue of a potion but the vial was clean. "Rivers, huh?"

* * *

The possibility of someone discovering what Andrew did to Malfoy had Harry, Ron, Andrew and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron.

"Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

* * *

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The three of them put their heads together to read the note.

 _ **Dear Ron,**_

 _ **How are you? Thanks for the letter — I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.**_

 _ **Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.**_

 _ **Send me an answer as soon as possible.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Charlie**_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult — I think the cloak's big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert — and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey — would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me — I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Harry, Andrew and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice.

"Oh no — oh no — I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Harry, Andrew and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione and Andrew. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

"I'll stay here in the school, around the corridors to the Astronomy Tower. You two go and pick up Norbert at Hagrid's."

* * *

Andrew went upstairs from the fourth floor and stayed near the unoccupied Ancient Runes classroom in the adjacent corridor to the stairway to the tower. He picked up a book from the bookshelf and decided to read about the topic in the meanwhile.

He checked his clock and it was around 10:30. He was halfway through the book. He was definitely taking this class next year. Perhaps next week when Flitwick calls them in for the selection, he'd tell him what he's interested in.

He suddenly heard someone trip nearby. He came out cautiously from the classroom and saw Neville, who looked as if he was running somewhere in a hurry.

"Nev, what's going on?" Andrew helped him up.

"It's Malfoy. He said something about Harry bringing up a dragon and he wanted to frame him and I wanted to warn him." Neville said scared.

"Calm down Nev. It is true that there's a dragon involved. We had to convince Hagrid to send it away with Ron's brother's coworkers. He and Hermione are on his way. Go back to Gryffindor Tower quick. I'll tell them." He patted Neville on his back and Neville felt a bit relieved. He scampered carefully back.

* * *

They found Fang the boarhound sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin' — he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another — even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then, sudden movements ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared. Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you — "

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming — he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on — I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going... going... gone.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. Hermione picked up the Invisibility Cloak and shoved it carefully into her bag. No more dragon — Malfoy in detention — what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."


	19. Chap 19 - The Forbidden Forest Detention

Chapter 19 – The Forbidden Forest Detention

 **Disclaimer: I do not own HP!**

* * *

Things couldn't have been worse.

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Harry's brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget to put the cloak back on? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest Astronomy Tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the Invisibility Cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

Had Harry thought that things couldn't have been worse? He was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Andrew.

Harry panicked and tried to whisper to Andrew, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and- bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you brought up River here into your wacky scheme, too?"

Harry caught Andrew's eye and both sighed.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've haven't heard of such a thing in a long time! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions — yes, you too, Mr. Rivers, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous — and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped — they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor — please — "

"You can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

A hundred points lost. That had put Gryffindor nearly in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the House Cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever make up for this?

Harry didn't sleep all was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?

* * *

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the House points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, and Hermione Granger, the supposed brightest student of her year had lost them all those points. Then the Ravenclaws also noticed that they were missing 50 points too. It seemed that Andrew Rivers was also in that scheme.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the House Cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"

Only Ron stood by him.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost a hundred points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well — no," Ron admitted.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on. He'd had it with sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him "the Seeker."

Hermione and Andrew were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. In Andrew's case, Snape was looking at him calculatingly, as if he was disappointed at him. He also didn't tell him about their next private Potions lesson. And when he went to Flitwick to select the electives for next year, which he selected Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, the professor gave him a letter from his father. He gulped.

 _ **Dear Andrew,**_

 _ **I know that you have gotten another detention. As you should know by now, I get reported every mishap and achievement you do. Running around the school past curfew is a clear violation of the school rules. I am very disappointed in you, son. If you continue this streak of rule breaking, you may lose your opportunity to be a Prefect in three years' time.**_

 _ **Also, since the elective selection must be this week or you just did, my recommendation to follow your aspiration for being a Potions Master is to take Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. In the possible scenario that you already talked to your Head of House, you can dismiss my recommendation. I will see you at the end of the term at King's Cross.**_

 _ **Yours truly,**_

 _ **Dad**_

After reading the letter, he felt he got hit with a troll club on the stomach…  
" _I am very disappointed…_ " he thought. Reading his father's words made him feel horrible. He'd rather face an angry father than a disappointed one.

* * *

Harry was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying he had to do kept his mind off his misery. He, Ron, Hermione and Andrew kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions...

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on his own one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell's voice.

"No — no — not again, please — "

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer.

"All right — all right — " he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harry didn't think Quirrell had even noticed him. He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before he remembered what he'd promised himself about not meddling.

All the same, he'd have gambled twelve Sorcerer's Stones that the mysterious man had just left the room, and from what Harry had just heard, he would be walking with a new spring in his step — Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.

Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harry told them what he'd heard.

"He's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell — "

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe the mysterious man found out how to get past him without knowing about Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof." said Andrew. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. No one doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween…Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he hates the students, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining." He continued finishing his review sheet for Charms and prepared to start the Herbology one.

Hermione and Harry looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around — "

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Andrew at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

 _ **Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.**_

 _ **Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.**_

 _ **Professor M. McGonagall**_

 _ **Professor F. Flitwick**_

Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. He half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Harry, she felt they deserved what they'd got.

* * *

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Andrew, which they picked up at the usual corridor. Filch was already there — and so was Malfoy. Harry had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well-oiled in case they're ever needed... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds. Harry wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scuddling across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Harry's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. His relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy — it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece." Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night — there's all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard."

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione, Andy?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd — "

" — tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Andrew, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right?

Get yer wands out an' practice now — that's it — an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh — so, be careful — let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Andrew, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves. Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then well be able ter — GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself — I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came — was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm — "

"A bit," said Hermione timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt — you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said.

"So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured — would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward.

"Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Harry and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few. . . . Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs ... they know things ... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns — never heard anythin' like it before."

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when they heard a really loud howl and Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Andrew..."

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Andrew, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was sighing but wanting to laugh at the same time. Andrew, it seemed, had sneaked up behind a tree and he howled as a werewolf and grabbed him by the legs as a joke. Malfoy had screamed like a girl and panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups — Malfoy, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this Andrew. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Hermione, "but I'll have a tighter leash on 'im, an' we've gotta get this done."

* * *

So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Andrew and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look — " he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Andrew.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. ... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Andrew, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood. Andrew let out a terrible scream and brought out his wand — Fang just bolted the other way.

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH! _Flipendo_ , _Incarcerous_ , _Stupefy_! "

The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry and Andrew — unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry, repelling Andrew's attacks — Andrew fell to his knees all tired for using three spells, each one more powerful than the previous, and Harry couldn't move for fear.

Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. Andrew stood up and steadied Harry, walking backwards as quickly as possible. He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the figure.

The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.

"Yes — thank you — what was that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said looking at Harry. The he looked at Andrew. "You must be one of his friends. You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time — especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry and Andrew could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty, with a third one. He was with a jet black hair, orange-ish eyes that looked like the setting sun, and a ripped upper human body.

"Firenze!" The centaur named Barth thundered. "What are you doing? You have two humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane and Barth kicked their back legs in anger.

"For the best?! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry and Andrew had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Barth. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Barth, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Barth, Ronan and Bane behind them.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Why's Barth and Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions." Suddenly, Andrew placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and turned him around, looking at the floor with a look of dread.

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Andrew. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price."

"Yes, friend of Harry Potter, you are very knowledgeable. If you have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" he wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else — something that will bring you back to full strength and power — something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course — the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who — "

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: " _Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die._ "

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol — "

"Harry! Andrew! Are you two all right?"

Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"We're fine," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry and Andrew slid off his back.

"Good luck, Harry Potter and friends," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

Hagrid came back, with a grim face and took them back to the school. Professor Flitwick was waiting for them at the Entrance Hall and escorted them to their respective common rooms.

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.

Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.

"The person talking to Quirrell wants the Stone for Voldemort ... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape was behind it and just wanted to get rich..."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

Harry wasn't listening.

"But what if the mysterious person IS You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked in a scared, squeaky voice.

"It is a possibility, I do not know for certain."

Harry started pacing in front of the fireplace.

"Firenze saved us, but he shouldn't have done so... Bane and Barth were furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen... They must show that Voldemort's coming back. ... Barth thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name?!" Ron hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is for the person to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose Barth'll be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.

When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his Invisibility Cloak, which he had placed at the bottom of the trunk after McGonagall had set them detention, folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

 _ **Just in case.**_


	20. Chap 20 - Encounters of the Third Head

Chapter 20 – Encounters of the Third Head

Author's Note: The story is at its climax! With this chapter and three more (estimated!) and **_Andrew Rivers and the Legend of the Stone_** will be completed! Shout out to the new followers/favoriters: **_jdkeyes2000_** , _**Ceatos**_ and __ _ **klopftopf**_!

Author's Note 2: About the issue on the Invisibility Cloak magically popping from Hermione's bag to the bottom of Harry's trunk - I had forgotten to clarify the detail on the previous chapter! She had given it to him after reaching the common room! Sorry for the minuscule mistake!

Author's Note 3: The information used on this chapter was used from HP Lexicon!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe!

* * *

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

"It's kind of unfair for the teachers have to give us these quills… It's like if they don't trust in us!" Ron was saying to Harry, Hermione and Andrew, who just came out of his DADA theoretical exam, while the trio exited the Herbology one.

"It's a fool proof way to keep it safe, Ronnie." Andrew answered, making Ron a bit grumpy.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox — points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Meanwhile, Andrew's practicals were a bit more complex. For Transfiguration, they had to transfigure three different animals into goblets, in the Charms practical, they were outside the castle near Flitwick's classroom and the test consisted that they'd have to stop falling items with the _Aresto Momentum_ charm. The Herbology practical wes the most tedious one because they had a timed exam in groups of two in which they had to treat all the plants they worked with on their whole year. He was teamed with Cho and luckily they were the fastest and most exact group to finish. Andrew had full points on every practical so far.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest.

Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry and Andrew had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Quirrell or anyone else might be up to. Andrew was still suspicious and he had already written tons of letters to his dad but he hadn't replied yet.

* * *

The trio's very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione and Andrew always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill thinking about the first year exams and second year topics were out of the range of thought, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting — it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Quirrell or the mystery guy found out how to get past Fluffy. Besides, Hagrid hasn't spilled the beans on how to bypass the dog except to us. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain this, Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

Andrew was thinking on the recent events. The troll, Fluffy, Flamel, Quirrell, the Invisibility Cloak, the Mirror, the Dragon, the Hooded Man in the Forest… " _Something has to be connected to every piece of this puzzle…_ " He thought.

Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one

who sent him letters constantly. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy… never… but —

Harry looked at Andrew who was thinking deeply and suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Where are you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think?"

Andrew gasped and bumped his forehead. "Why didn't I see it before? It all fits!"

"What are you two talking about?" said Ron looking at the two of them as if they were going nuts, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, with Andrew hot on his heels, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, playing a flute, similar to what Harry's Christmas present he had sent, and next to him, he had a large bowl of unshelled peas he had recently finished.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the four of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head — that's one o' the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

At the mention of this, Andrew's mind went on override. Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas.

"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here. ... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted . . . but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy. ..."

"And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?"

Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well — yeah — how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep — "

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey — where're yeh goin'?"

* * *

Harry, Ron, Andrew and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak — it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane or Barth doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"Well just have to — " Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, Harry and Ron thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harry swallowed and looked at the other three — now what?

"It's imperative to find him," Andre said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time — "

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

"Professor — it's about the Sorcerer's Stone — " Ron blurted, throwing caution to the winds.

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up.

"How do you know — ?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think — I know — that Qu — that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor — "

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Quirrell's going through the trapdoor tonight with the man. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we — "

Hermione gasped. Harry, Andrew and Ron wheeled round. Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were — " Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're…" He shot a calculating look at the four, lingering mostly at Harry's face. "…up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Snape turned his back and he strode off in the direction of the staffroom. Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Andrew called Snape.

"Professor Snape, please wait!" Andrew said. He was already at the end of the corridor when he turned around in place, looking at Andrew questioningly. The other three gasped.

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"SO WHAT?" Andrew shouted. "Don't you understand? If Quirrell and that guy gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? Dad told me how the desperation and the tension ran through Britain for those eleven years! There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone? I'm telling Snape all we know and nothing you three say is going to stop me!"

Harry shut his mouth, thinking about how true Andrew's words rang and he just replied silently "Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

Ron and Hermione tried to protest, but he glared at the two of them.

"You're both right," said Hermione in a small voice. "We should try telling another professor, even if it costs us major points to our houses."

Snape had reached them. "What is the matter, Mr. Rivers?" He shot Andrew an odd glare. Andrew slightly cowered under the glare but spoke.

"Professor, we believe that someone will try to steal the Sorcerer's Stone contained on the third floor corridor that is currently forbidden."

Snape's eyes widened and glared the four of them harshly.

"WHAT?!" Snape snarled. "I wonder how three first years and a second year have discovered what is being protected in the castle! Tell me why you think it is under the risk of being stolen."

The four of them proceeded to tell everything they have collected throughout the year in detail. After they finished, Snape sighed yet he was very alert.

"I am still impressed of everything that you have gone through, yet you four acted rashly and without any common sense! If you were from my house, you'd already be facing suspension. Since the dragon thing was true, I shall deduct 10 points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Rivers, 15 each from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, and 20 more from you, Mr. Potter. Also, you will serve detention the day before the Leaving Feast, the four of you. I shall go investigate tonight if your assumptions are through. You may leave now."

* * *

The quartet went a bit downcast towards the Great Hall for dinner. They decided to meet up fifteen minutes past eleven. Andrew left early with his yearmates. After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset by it. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy — he didn't feel much like singing.

He ran back down to the common room.

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us — if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own — "

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Quirrell maybe already deep through the enchantments and Snape hot on his heels; he might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

"I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll — I'll fight you!"

"Neville," Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot —"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation.

"Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

Hermione stepped forward. "Neville, you should come with us. We'll hide under the Invisibility Cloak, although it'll be a tight fit for the five of us then." Neville was suspicious of them, but seeing the honesty in their eyes he relaxed slightly and decided to go with them.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped near him and pulled on the Invisibility Cloak. They carefully clambered out of the portrait hole. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them.

At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

As usual, Andrew was waiting on the sixth floor corridor. This time, he was hidden in one of the crevices that contained a suit of armor on a plinth. They removed the Invisibility Cloak for a second.

"Finally! I nearly got seen by Mrs. Norris!" whispered Andrew excitedly. He noticed Neville, slightly cowering behind the three other Gryffindors. "Why is Nev here with you guys? Not that I mind or anything…"

"Long story. Let's keep going down to follow Snape! Quirrell must be already near the Stone!" Harry pressured.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

Harry had a sudden idea.

"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake — I didn't see you — of course I didn't, you're invisible — forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor — and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy. I hope he does reach whoever went first."

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other four.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

"We have to see this to the end." added Andrew.

"That's what friends are for!" Neville commented.

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes ..."

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased — it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing — just black — there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Andrew so he can keep lulling him to sleep.

Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Andrew began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope. ..."

And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and —

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.

"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.

"What's this stuff?" were his first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"

Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side, followed by Neville.

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Andrew fell down the trapdoor hole.

"We must be miles under the school," she said.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky?!" shrieked Neville. "Look at you all!"

He leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. He had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around his ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing. Hermione and Andrew's heels were firmly gripped by now.

Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on her. Now she watched in horror as the three boys fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them. Neville was evading the tendrils to get his legs again.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "I know what this is — it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare ... what did Professor Sprout say, Neville?

"W-w-well, it likes the dark and the damp — " Neville stuttered.

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes — of course — but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron and Andrew bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used previously at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the two boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Neville," said Harry as he joined him and Hermione by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis — 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon — Norbert had been bad enough...

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know ... sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead — I can see something moving." Andrew pointed out.

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel- bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other four followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Ron tried the _Alohomora_ Charm.

"Now what?" said Ron in clear annoyment.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering — glittering?

"They're not birds!" Andrew said suddenly. "They're Keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while the other four squinted up at the flock of keys. "...yes — look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle."

Harry, Ron and Andrew each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. Neville and Hermione decided to stay on the ground. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one — there — no, there — with bright blue wings — the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above — Andrew, stay below and stop it from going down — and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, Andrew rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Their cheers echoed around the high chamber.

They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned — it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other four, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron, Andrew, Neville and Hermione shivered slightly — the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we — er — have to join you to get across?"

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other four.

"This needs thinking about. ..." he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of five of the black pieces.

The foursome stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess —

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry and Neville, you take the place of the bishops, and Hermione and Andrew, you go there instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron, with certain pride, but with a nervous undertone.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, the bishops, and the castles turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving five empty squares that Harry, Ron, Neville, Andrew and Hermione took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry — move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry, Neville, Andrew and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think — let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "it's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Everyone shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I make my move and she'll take me — that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But — "

"Do you want to stop Quirrell or not?"

"Ron — "

"Look, if you don't hurry up, hell already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go — now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor — Hermione screamed and tried to run towards him but Harry shouted.

"NO! We haven't finished the game yet!"

She stayed on her square — the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at

Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear.

"I'll stay with Ron, guys. You go on ahead." Neville said in a firm way.

With one last desperate look back at Ron and Neville, Harry, Andrew and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's — ?"

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, Babbling's, Vector's, Sinistra's, and Snape's ..."

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

The next room was a dome shaped room, with many stars engraved on the ceiling. Four telescopes were in the middle of the room, with weird markings engraved near the lenses, and they were pointed to exact spots on the domed ceiling. The telescopes shot an odd beam of light when encountering the correct star. What they saw afterwards surprised them, gasping deeply. Snape was walking from the telescopes, his back towards them, activating a switch engraved in the wall, when he heard the gasps.

"WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING OUT OF BED?!" Snape bellowed, making the three of them cower in fear.

"W-w-we wanted t-t-to help, Professor!" squeaked Hermione. Snape shot a fulminating glare towards her, scaring her behind Andrew, who was looking at Snape like if he was an enraged bull, about to attack.

Snape kept glaring at them until he said in a severe tone, "Come with me. But just you should know, you are in HEAPS of trouble when we get out of this ordeal!"

He pulled open the next door that the switch opened up, and the three of them were hardly daring to look at what came next — but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"What? That was it for Sinistra's? Where are the puzzles made by Professors Babbling and Vector?" Andrew said.

"The engravings on the telescopes were made by Professor Babbling and there was a riddle made by Vector to know where to locate the specific spots. That mostly covered that up." Snape replied testily.

"So whose is this one?" Harry asked.

"Snape's," said Andrew. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry and Andrew looked over her shoulder to read it:

 _ **Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,**_

 _ **Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,**_

 _ **One among us seven will let you move ahead,**_

 _ **Another will transport the drinker back instead,**_

 _ **Two among our number hold only nettle wine,**_

 _ **Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.**_

 _ **Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,**_

 _ **To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:**_

 _ **First, however slyly the poison tries to hide**_

 _ **You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;**_

 _ **Second, different are those who stand at either end,**_

 _ **But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;**_

 _ **Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,**_

 _ **Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;**_

 _ **Fourth, the second left and the second on the right**_

 _ **Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.**_

Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that both of them were smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic — it's logic — a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give them a minute, Mr. Potter. I know already the answer as I did make the riddle."

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire — toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"How do you know that, Hermione?" Harry said surprised.

Andrew cleared his throat and went into his lecturing tone.

"Okay Harry, listen up. The riddle has eight clues. The first one: _'One among us seven will let you move ahead.'_ This tells us that there is one and only one potion that will allow us to go forward. We shall call it F. The second clue says _: 'Another will transport the drinker back instead.'_ This tells us that there is one and only one potion that will allow us to go backwards. We shall call it B."

Harry was setting the clues carefully in his head, following Andrew's train of thought. Andrew continued reciting.

"The third clue states _'Two among our number hold only nettle wine.'_ As that part says, two bottles contain nettle wine. These we shall call W. The fourth clue says that ' _Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.'_ Three bottles contain poison. These we shall call P."

Harry nodded in confirmation. Snape was impressed on how fast a first year and a second year had cracked the riddle. After all, they were the brightest witch of the first years and his future apprentice.

"Here's where it gets confusing with the fifth clue: _"First, however slyly the poison tries to hide — You will always find some on nettle wine's left side'._ Then whenever there is a wine, you will always find poison to its left. This makes bottle #1 incapable to be nettle wine. The three poisons cannot be together. That would leave at least one wine without a poison to its left. Two poisons may be next to each other; but in that case, there must be a wine immediately to their right. If Bottle #1 is not poison, Bottle #2 cannot be wine. The sixth clue eliminates certain possibilities: _"Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;"_ Bottles #1 and #7 never contain the same potion, thus bottle 1 and 7 are not the Forward potions."

Harry was mesmerized by the deductive reasoning of them.

"The second to last clue says: _"Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;"_ The biggest and smallest bottles are not poison. The clue #8 says: _"Fourth, the second left and the second on the right are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."_ Bottle #2 and Bottle #6 hold identical potions. Bottle #2 and #6 cannot be the F one or the B one, since F and B are unique."

"But how did you concluded which is which then?" Harry asked Andrew and Hermione.

"There were a lot of possibilities and variations and we whittled them down to one. So our solution turned out to be that the first, third and fifth bottles were the poisons, bottles two and six are the nettle wine, the fourth being the potion going for continuing ahead and the last one being the one to go back. Are we right, Professor?"

"Sharp eyes you've got there, Miss Granger, Mr. Rivers. There was another possibility of the third and fourth bottle were inverted." Snape said, in a stoic voice.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."

"They are refillable after a certain quantity of time. You wouldn't expect to be stuck in this room, right?" Snape smirked, seeing their obvious confused and surprised faces.

They looked at each other.

"You two drink that," said Harry to Andrew and Hermione. "No, listen, get back and get Ron and Neville. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy — go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. Professor Snape and I might be able to hold Quirrell off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"But Harry — what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well — I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry — you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!"

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered, passing the bottle to Andrew.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No — but it's like ice." Andrew answered, also slightly shuddering.

"Quick, go, before it wears off!" Professor Snape barked.

"Good luck — take care — "

"GO!"

Hermione and Andrew turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames, passing the bottle to Snape.

"Here I come," he said to himself, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them — for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire — then he was on the other side, in the last chamber. Snape had also appeared next to him.

There was already someone there.


	21. Chapter 21 - The Man and the Mirror

Chapter 21 – The Man and the Mirror

 **Author's Note: Hello everyone! Today, like the last update, will be a double update! I am checking if there's continuity errors and some spelling mistakes before submitting it. Counting these two chapters, the book will end at 23 chapters. As usual, shoutout to the new followers, readers who have favorited the story and have made reviews: _Retro94_ , _Codex6765_ , _storm dragon king_ and _NaruNaruko-chan_!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!**

* * *

It was Quirrell.

"You!" said Harry, with anger in his tone.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter! Also, you brought Severus with you!" Quirrell started to grin in a creepy way.

Snape brought out his wand sharply and pointed it to Quirrell, his face in a snarl. Harry also did the same but he hadn't pointed it towards the DADA professor.

"Quirrell, what is the meaning of this?! I already suspected that you were the traitor since the reunion with the Headmaster at the start of the year."

"Ah, Severus…" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, my attitude had changed compared to when you and the oaf Hagrid had seen me in the Leaky Cauldron. I had an important errand! Besides you, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry couldn't take anymore.

"You tried to kill me!"

"Yes, I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger, along with Mr. Rivers rushed to set fire to my robe at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

Harry had his mouth hanging and then he turned to Snape.

"Thank you for rescuing me Professor Snape." said Harry solemnly.

"It was nothing, Mr. Potter." replied Snape without breaking eye contact with Quirrell. Harry turned back to Quirrell with his wand pointed straight at Quirrell.

"You tried to murder me. Why?" Harry asked, with venom in his voice.

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular… and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and Snape, but the Potions Master adeptly deflected both spells back to him.

A quick slash of spells were exchanged by Snape and Quirrell, deflecting, sidestepping and sending like a quick Wimbledon tennis match. Snape had raised a shield to protect himself from the onslaught of spells. Harry stayed near a column, trying to not get in the crossfire, yet his wand still trained towards the DADA professor. Suddenly, Quirrell shot three Flipendos, successfully shattering Snape's Shield Charm, followed by a Tripping Jinx and a _Diffindo_ spell and slashed Professor Snape on his wand arm, leaving a gash from shoulder to elbow, making Snape drop his wand.

Quirrell once again flicked his wand at Harry, sending the black ropes towards him, tightening around him strongly.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly."

Snape was trying to hold the blood that was oozing from the gash in his arm, using magic with his left hand. Since it wasn't with his dominant hand, the process was significantly slower.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you with Professor Snape around Christmas and I also heard you with someone in the forest — " he blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me… As for the forest part, I was talking to my Master, but as usual, meddling kids were around…"

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror. He glanced at Snape, having an idea.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much." said Harry, seeing Snape's face go into a sour

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead." Harry turned towards Snape with a look of surprise.

"Quirrell, I suggest that you should shut your mouth this instant!" He shot Quirrell looks of pure loathe, just like the ones he occasionally shot at Harry. He had finished healing his arm, and was standing back again.

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing — was it your Master threatening you?" Harry shot to Quirrell to distract him more.

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions — he is a great wizard and I am weak — "

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. ... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Snape's face paled, and he gritted his teeth at the mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley — how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind was racing.

" _What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it — which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?"_ Harry thought desperately.

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to both Snape and Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

" **Use the boy... Use the boy..."**

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes — Potter — come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

" _I must lie_ ", he thought desperately. " _I must look and lie about what I see, that's all._ "

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket — and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow — incredibly — he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?" Harry screwed up his courage.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I — I've won the House Cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it? Should he reach Professor Snape?

But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

" **He lies... He lies...** "

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

" **Let me speak to them... face-to-face...** "

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

" **I have strength enough... for this...** "

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it.

Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

" **Harry Potter...** " it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

" **See what I have become?** " the face said. " **Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?** "

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward, reaching to Snape.

" **Don't be a fool** ," snarled the face. " **Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy...** "

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

" **How touching...** " it hissed. " **I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave. I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother didn't need to die... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.** "

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed " **SEIZE HIM!** " and the next second, Snape was in front of him, protecting him with another Shield charm.

" **Ah, Severus. It seems that you have changed to the side of the Light and that fool Dumbledore.** "

"My Lord, I did not know that this whole affair was your doing." Snape kneeled slightly. "I thought it was Quirrell being greedy… I was continuing my task as a spy."

" **Ah yes, it seems that you haven't failed me… yet.** " Voldemort used Quirrell's wand and he shouted " **CRUCIO!** "

Snape's whole body felt like if he were being stung by thousands and thousands of needles. Snape grunted in pain until it became unbearable and shouted. He fell to the floor, twitching after the effects of the Cruciatus curse.

Harry then felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened — he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers — they were blistering before his eyes.

" **Seize him! SEIZE HIM!** " shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck — Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him — my hands — my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms — Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

" **Then kill him, fool, and be done!** " screeched Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face —

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain — his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off — the pain in Harry's head was building — he couldn't see — he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, " **KILL HIM! KILL HIM!** " and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp. He got towards Professor Snape, who was still with pain and he was helped up by Harry. Snape noticed that something was coming up from the charred remains of Quirinus Quirrell.

"Potter, DUCK!" Snape shouted to Harry, whose back was towards Quirrell. A spirit like wraith came out of the body of Quirrell and shot towards Harry's chest, who screamed in pain. The wraith escaped the room and the Stone had rolled of Harry's pocket. He knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down... down... down...


	22. Chapter 22 - Ravens versus Lions!

Chapter 22 – Ravens versus Lions!

* * *

Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.

He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.

He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore.

Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! Voldemort was helping him! He had hurt Professor Snape! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick —

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Severus is quite fine and Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I — "

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days. Messrs. Weasley, Rivers, Longbottom and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone — "

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the topic of the Stone. Professor Quirrell and Voldemort did not manage to take it from you. Severus was carrying you out of the chamber while I arrived, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left."

"The effort involved in protecting the Stone nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, Severus and I were afraid it had, or at least, achieved possession of your body. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend — Nicolas Flamel — "

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Dumbledore saw Harry's face of confusion and sadness and he kept talking.

"Nicolas and Perenelle did tell me that they wanted to meet you and your friends before term ends. I will send you a note when they confirm the date."

Harry lay there, lost for words. He was going to meet Flamel! Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling. Harry snapped from his slight impression.

"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking ... Sir — even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who — "

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case

I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well ... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you at the time, due to the nature of the question. You will know, one day."

And Harry knew it would be no good to argue.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign ... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the Invisibility Cloak — do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah — your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"But why didn't he have it with him if he knew Voldemort was targeting them? They would've been alive!" Harry slightly raised his tone while saying this. "I could've had my family with me!"

Dumbledore's face fell in sadness, the twinkle in his eyes subsiding.

"Sadly, I cannot answer that." Harry was slightly mad at the Headmaster's answer.

"And there's something else, while we're on the topic. Why didn't have my Gringotts vault key with me?"

"I thought it was wise that I should hold on to it. Think on the consequences if your relatives knew that your parents left you that quantity of money? They would've left it bare, leaving you with nothing."

Harry thought of it. He knew that the Dursleys were greedy and wouldn't be surprised if they'd do it.

"Quirrell said Professor Snape hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?" Harry interjected.

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?!"

"Yes..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace. Although I do believe there is more to the story, but it is not my place to say or speculate."

Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing ..."

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes... Now, enough questions." Dumbledore pointed the various presents on the night table.

"I suggest you make a start on these sweets."

Dumbledore grabbed a random item from the table. "Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them — but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

Madam Pomfrey was usually a nice woman, but very strict with her patients' care.

"Visit time is over, Headmaster." she said in a slightly demanding tone.

"Well, my boy, I know that you have many more questions but I have matters to attend." He left the Hospital Wing. A few minutes later, Andrew, Neville, Ron and Hermione came running into the wing.

"What is the meaning of this ruckus?" Madam Pomfrey inquired.

"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.

"Absolutely not!"

"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey ..."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let them stay.

"Harryl"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to — Dumbledore was so worried — "

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"

"Is it true that Voldemort was involved in all of this?" Ron and Neville squeaked in terror.

"Don't say the name, please…" Neville pleaded, covering his ears.

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; Snape and Quirrell's duel, the Stone; and Voldemort. The quartet were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"HE WAS POSSESSED?!"

"Yeah, he was on the back of Quirrell's head…" Harry trailed off the sentence when he remembered something. "Oh my…"

"What happened Harry, are you okay?" Neville asked worriedly.

"Ron, your brothers will be legends!" Harry said. Ron turned to Harry, confused.'

"Why you say that Fred and George will be legends? Did they do some amazing prank?"

"The biggest! Remember when around holidays we went to have a snowball fight and they bewitched some snowballs to hit Quirrell's turban from behind?" Ron and Andrew nodded, but Andrew picked up on the train of thought.

"The twins have hit Voldemort on the FACE!" Andrew shouted. Hermione, Neville and Ron were dumbfounded and looked at Harry for confirmation and when he saw him nodding, the Hospital Wing turned into a chicken coop. Harry shushed them until they were silent and didn't awake Madam Pomfrey's ire.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it? — 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.' "

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"He did tell me that Flamel and his wife wanted to meet us before term ended."

Hermione and Andrew stood up in surprise.

"We're meeting them! What an honor!" Hermione said.

"One of the major alchemical figures in history and we're going to see him in the flesh!" Andrew continued, with stars in his eyes.

"Dunno what is going with these two…" Ron whispered to Harry and Neville, who chuckled.

"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.

"Well, Andy and I got back all right," said Hermione. "Neville brought Ron round — that took a while — and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall — he already knew — he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your fathers cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione exploded, "if he did — I mean to say — that's terrible — you could have been killed."

"It kinda was…" said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny yet crazy man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could. ..."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the last match against Ravenclaw tomorrow. It is possible that we can win the Quidditch Cup!"

"Over my dead body, Weasley! We're going to steamroll you to next term!" Andrew said in a competitive tone and he and Ron started to bicker, Hermione and Neville looking at them confusedly.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.

* * *

After a good night's sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal.

"I want to go to the match," he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky Quidditch matches could be. "And you have another visitor."

"Oh, good," said Harry. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him, and burst into tears.

"It's — all — my — ruddy — fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads..."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.

"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead — anyway, got y eh this ..."

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father, twirling while dancing.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos ... knew yeh didn' have any ... d'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood. Harry hugged him by the lower part of his belly, with tears in his eyes.

"Thanks Hagrid, I love it!"

"Well Harry, yeh should get goin'. The match is in one hour and you're still 'ere!"

Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor Tower to get dressed for the match. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup but Wood had saved him.

Harry ran down to the Quidditch Pitch, with his Nimbus 2000 in hand, reaching towards the changing rooms. Wood was waiting for him.

"This is it, guys and girls, the last game of the season. We win this, we win the Cup. We have to beat Ravenclaw quick and with a lot of points and we can beat Slytherin in the House Cup!"

The Gryffindor team cheered and went as a battalion to face the Ravenclaw contingent.

The Ravenclaw Team Captain was already assembled out in the field. Andrew was watching from the bench, as he was the reserve Keeper. The Gryffindors were walking from the other side of the field, faces with clear determination. From the stands, he heard Lee Jordan, starting the commentary.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Finals of the Quidditch Cup of 1991: Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor! Both teams have assembled a great offense and defence, and with Gryffindor's addition of Seeker Harry Potter, they may have a chance of winning the Cup this year! Ravenclaw have their own ace up their sleeve, with their new set of reserves that are as sharp as the regulars in the team."

Madam Hooch sounded the whistle and 14 brooms went upwards. Andrew was watching the players fly at high speeds. He was paying particular attention to the Ravenclaw Keeper, the Gryffindor Keeper, and to Harry all at once. Half an hour later, the game was 80 – 60 in favor of Gryffindor, when suddenly a Bludger had hit the Ravenclaw Keeper in the chest and he fell to the field, the whole Ravenclaw contingent gasping in horror.

"A hard shot to the Ravenclaw Keeper by one of the Weasley twins! The captain is signaling Madam Hooch for a change in the roster, she accepts and here comes the reserve Keeper, Andrew Rivers in his debut! He is using the Greek International Standard Broom, the Zeus Lightning!"

Andrew rose like a bullet towards the goals and watched the Gryffindor Chasers and the Quaffle like a hawk. He had successfully blocked seven attempts of Gryffindor to gain points, making the Ravenclaws tie to the Gryffindor 100 apiece. It was practically down to the Seekers to win the game.

There were gasps all around the stadium when they saw Harry and the Ravenclaw Seeker go nose to nose to get the Snitch when from out fo nowhere, both Ravenclaw Beaters hit the Bludgers towards Harry's direction, knocking him out of the race, and leaving the Seeker the only one to get the Snitch, ending the game.

"A tight win for Ravenclaw! The surprise attack from the Beaters of the blue team knocked out Seeker Potter out of commission, ending the game 250-100, making the Ravenclaws the winners of the Quidditch Cup of 1991-1992." Lee said in a slightly sad tone. The Gryffindor team and Andrew dropped around Harry and helped carrying him towards the Hospital team, the overwhelming feeling of disappointment in the environment.


	23. Chapter 23 - Snape and Flamel

Chapter 23 – Snape and Flamel

Author's Note: **Today is the upload of the last two chapters of _Andrew Rivers and the_ _Legend of the Stone_. Shout out to my new followers and people who has put the story in their favorites: _Rosy Willard_ , _Sandman93_ , _fern1968_ , _Art with ap_ , _Eagle D Claw_ and _dragongodslayer7_!**

Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter in any way.**

* * *

Harry woke up, feeling groggy. He slowly straightened up from his bed and noticed he wasn't at the dorm room back in Gryffindor Tower. He recognized the beds. He was back at the Hospital Wing. Harry sighed. He looked out the window and saw that it was nearly sunset.

He slowly started remembering: the Quidditch Match, the Snitch, trying to surpass the Ravenclaw Seeker, the two Beaters appearing out of nowhere and knocking the Bludgers toward him…

He suddenly heard a door opening. Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, with a tray of food. She placed the tray on the night table next to Harry's bed and she placed her hands on her waist, with a reproving look on her face.

"So!" Madam Pomfrey started. "Got yourself knocked out at the game, eh Mr. Potter? You should've been resting instead, but noooo…. You had to go to the stupid Quidditch match. I should tell the Headmaster to suspend those games, honestly!" She waved her wand in an intricate pattern over Harry and a piece of parchment and a quill came to life and started writing what was going on inside Harry's body.

She clicked her tongue when she saw the results written in the parchment.

"Fractured clavicle, a crack on the skull, left arm snapped nearly in half by the radius, a sprain on the wrist of the right arm…" Her eyes grew a bit when she saw the rest of the document but didn't say anything. "Well, someone's up for a rough night…"

Harry sighed in exasperation. " _Stuck in the Hospital Wing. AGAIN!"_

Madam Pomfrey went to the nearest cabinet and extracted three vials.

"Drink these potions, Mr. Potter. These will fix all the damage you have suffered at the game and such. If everything is well, you should be out in two days' time."

Harry tried to argue but she glared sternly at him. "No buts, Mr. Potter. Drink and rest."

Harry unstoppered the vials and drank them slowly. The first one tasted tangy for some reason, the second was oddly flavorless, but the third smelled horrible so he pinched his nose and swallowed it quick.

He turned very drowsy for some reason. He placed his head on the pillow and fell asleep quick.

* * *

A few days later, Andrew walked towards the library with Hermione, talking about his Potions works with Professor Snape, when suddenly, Malfoy stepped out from the adjacent corridor.

"So, one of the Blood Traitors and the Mudblood, strolling around school." Malfoy sniggered at their angry looks, and then he glared at Malfoy with full loathing, while Hermione look confused and affronted.

"Scion Malfoy, there is no need to insult the lady. What do you want?" He had his hand near his wand, poised to attack if he attempted to.

"It's about time I had some payback. I suspect you potioned me the day when the dragon hatched from the egg the oaf had." Malfoy produced the empty vial from his pocket. "I know you're working with Uncle Sev on some projects. I would've been doing the same if you weren't his star Potions prodigy. I got thrown to the side BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Malfoy pulled out his wand and Andrew quickly did the same. Hermione had hers out too, when suddenly Malfoy shot his first spell: " _Expelliarmus_!"

Hermione's wand shot out of her hand and Malfoy pointed towards Andrew's hand when from behind him he heard someone say " _P-Petrificus Totalus_!" Malfoy went rigid and fell face first to the floor, his nose hitting the stone floor hard.

Neville came out from behind the same corridor Malfoy had appeared earlier, brandishing his wand nervously. When he saw Malfoy on the floor, he promptly fainted. Hermione picked up her wand and went towards Neville, while Andrew flipped Malfoy over.

"Tough luck, Drakey boy. It seems you won't get your revenge yet." He grabbed the vial. "I'll be taking this. Less evidence you have, better for me." He levitated Malfoy to the nearby broom closet and placed him inside.

Neville was carried by the two of them to the Hospital Wing and as soon as they placed him on one of the beds, Madam Pomfrey came to check on the patient on the next bed, which was separating them with a medical curtain.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems everything has mended well. A bit of more rest and you should be out by today before dinner."

Andrew and Hermione gasped.

"HARRY!", shouted Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey moved the curtain to the side and glared at Hermione because of her outburst.

"Miss Granger, this is a Hospital Wing! No screaming!", the mediwitch exclaimed in noticed that Neville was on the bed, unconscious. "What happened to Mister Longbottom?"

"He fainted because of nervousness, Madam." Andrew replied.

She sighed deeply. "I swear, you five are going to give me wrinkles beforehand!" She brandished her wand and said: " _Ennervate!_ "

Neville came to be, with a dazed look. "Wh-where am I?"

"You're in the Hospital Wing, Mister Longbottom. It appears that you went unconscious. Please rest for a bit."

From outside, it was heard a bunch of people running towards the door. Ron, Fred, George barged in while Percy came in a half jog.

"What is the meaning of this, Messrs. Weasley?" she said, clapping her face with her hand.

"Sorry Madam Pomfrey, these guys wanted to see Harry, but as usual, their common sense is faulty."

Percy saw that Neville, Hermione and Andrew were there too.

"Now that I remember, Professor McGonagall informed me that the five of you were expected to be in her office tomorrow morning, and Professor Snape wanted Mr. Potter, Mr. Rivers and Miss Granger tonight at his office for detention."

Andrew, Harry and Hermione looked apologetically at each other, while Ron and Neville looked at them with troubled faces. Madam Pomfrey let them talk for quite a while, talking about the game, about Quirrell and such until Andrew remembered something. He kneeled in front of the twins.

"Andy boy, why are you kneeling in front of us?" George asked, confused.

"I mean we know we're awesome but what have we done now?" Fred continued. Percy was serving water for himself behind them.

"I am pleased to inform you, that you two have successfully attacked Lord Voldemort in the face!"

Percy spat the water out in surprise, wetting the twins' back. The other three Weasleys shouted in surprise: "WHAT?!"

"Keep it down, will you?!" shouted Madam Pomfrey from her office.

They explained the reason of Andrew's words.

"Freddie, I can't believe…"

"…that we attacked Voldy and we're still alive to tell the tale, Georgie!"

They started to do a jig, while Percy fell on to the nearest chair, clutching his chest.

* * *

Around five, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Andrew walked down to the Great Hall and ate dinner together. They finished quickly and when they saw Professor Snape rise from his chair, Harry signaled Hermione and Andrew to also leave towards the dungeon.

They reached Snape's office and Andrew knocked on the door. A silky voice came from inside.

"You may come in."

He pushed the door so that the three of them could enter.

"You came just in time. Follow me, you will serve your detention in the classroom."

Snape stood up from his desk and walked to the adjacent room. Three tables were placed around the room: one near the faucets with a teetering pile of cauldrons, the other table had three cauldrons full of potions and a lot of empty vials ready to be marked and stoppered and the last one had various potions ingredients that needed to be prepared beforehand. Snape stopped and turned in place, facing the three students.

"Potter, to the faucets. Granger, to the cauldrons. Rivers, to the preparation station. You have three hours. Begin."

Snape sat at the classroom desk, watching them like a hawk. Harry was cleaning the cauldrons meticulously, which had impressed Snape. He still had a bit of the mentality that Harry Potter was treated as a prince, but mostly is due to his hate towards James Potter. Harry's unruliness and brash attitude reminded of the late Potter, yet there were certain characteristics that reminded him of Lily.

Then, his sight wandered towards Granger. A Muggleborn, who was most likely to be the highest score in her year, and always had an answer to any question and if not, she'll research it to no end. She reminded him a lot to Lily, too.

And then he looked at his prized pupil, Andrew Rivers. Always excelled at his class and by the looks of it, also was going to be the first of his class this year. His private classes with him and the Charms club had made him a force to be reckoned with! He had high expectations for him when he reached OWL level and beyond. He'd be surprised when Rivers added the electives next year. He was sure that he'll surpass him.

Two hours and a half later, Granger and Rivers had finished their task and he let them go. Potter was nearly done with the last cauldron, when he decided to talk with the boy.

"Potter, a moment please."

"Is something wrong, sir?" Harry asked.

"Nothing in particular. I wanted to talk to you about certain things." Snape continued.

Harry flinched slightly. _"What would he ask me about? Am I in trouble?"_

Snape started talking again. "I wanted to talk to you about my attitude this year." Harry's head snapped up quickly. Snape kept on. "Since Quirinus mentioned it…"

"S'fine Professor, Professor Dumbledore explained it to me somewhat. He said that you hated my father and that he saved you from something but he didn't tell me more than that."

" _That doddering, meddling old coot!_ " Snape thought, gritting his teeth.

"The Headmaster is right. I do hate your father and he did save my life, but there are things I shouldn't say. What I was going to talk to you was about someone else." A chime in the clock informed that it was nearly 9 pm and curfew will be up. "Mr. Potter, it's nearly curfew. Go to your dorm room." Snape disappeared through the door they came earlier. Harry exited from the classroom by the regular entrance.

* * *

The next morning, Harry was woken up by Hermione.

"Move it Harry! We have to go to breakfast and then to McGonagall's office!" Neville was already up and Hermione grabbed a pillow from Seamus's empty bed and started hitting Ron with it.

"Come on Ronald! Stop being a sloth!" Ron moaned in his sleepy stupor and slowly woke up.

The quartet exited Gryffindor Tower and reached the Great Hall. Andrew was already eating his breakfast absentmindedly.

"Hi Andrew, good morning!" Hermione said.

"Good morning, 'Mione!" He shot Hermione a shiny smile and he was slightly blushing. "Good morning guys!" He added.

They sat together at the rather empty Ravenclaw table and everyone collected their desired breakfast. Ron had filled his plate completely, for which Hermione started scolding him for. Harry and Neville giggled at their antics.

Neville then asked Andrew. "D'you reckon that we'll meet then Flamels today?"

Harry nodded. "Quite possible. Today IS the last day of term…" Harry said slightly sad.

Slytherin was way ahead on the score, and even with the Quidditch match points, Gryffindor couldn't reach them. They were stuck at fourth place…

They noticed the sadness in Harry's face and everyone went silent and continued eating. At 9:30, the quintet was waiting outside McGonagall's office in the first floor. She came down from the stairway above.

"Come on, you five. The Headmaster summoned us to his office." McGonagall lead the way up to the third floor, when they found a gargoyle statue at the end of a corridor. The Transfiguration Professor walked towards it and then she said: "Cauldron Cake!" and the gargoyle moved, revealing a snail stairway, going up. They kept going up the stairs until they reached a door with a griffin knocker on it. The professor knocked on it three times and the Headmaster's soft voice was heard.

"Enter."

The students were marveled at the look of the Headmaster's office, tons of silver instruments moving, making sounds and poofing smoke; rows and rows of books towering up to the ceiling, an empty bird stand placed next to the Headmaster's desk, and the walls were full of portraits of random people.

Harry saw that the headmaster was at the chair in front of his desk, while Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout stood by the side. An elderly couple was sitting on the chair across from Dumbledore.

"Students, I am proud to present you my fellow alchemist and friend, Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle." Nicolas Flamel bowed his head and so did her. They didn't look a day over 50.

"Ah, Messrs. Potter, Weasley, Rivers, Longbottom and Miss Granger!" Nicolas stood up to salute them. "Thank you very much for rescuing the Sorcerer's Stone from the Dark Lord!" He patted their shoulders in gratitude.

"Nicolas wanted to come here and meet you in person and offer his thanks for the bravery and the skills shown on the third floor corridor." Dumbledore added, his eyes on full twinkle.

"That is correct, Albus. Nicolas and I are very grateful for your heroism. Although…" She turned towards Dumbledore. "You should've thought better ideas to protect the Stone!" She banged her hands on his desk. "Seriously, enchantments and traps that mere first years and a second year could easily break? You should've hidden it in here!"

"As I said, but he preferred Quirrell's idea…" Snape whispered to McGonagall in apparent sourness.

"Anyways, we also came to gift you five with these." He pulled out five necklaces with a piece of a blood red stone. "These are the pieces of the Sorcerer's Stone I owned. Since we decided that it'll be better destroyed than in Voldemort's hands, we decided to give you the remains of them. They don't work at all, but it's a good reminder of your acts of heroism." Nicolas placed the necklaces on Andrew and Harry's necks while Perenelle did the same with Ron, Neville and Hermione.

Everyone gave their thanks for the memento. Dumbledore asked the professors to escort the students back to the Great Hall for lunch, but Flamel called out to Harry.

"Mister Potter, please stay behind."

The professors and the other four left the office. Dumbledore, Perenelle and Nicolas stood in front of Harry.

"I especially want to thank you, Mister Potter. Our lives will end soon and we want to give you another present." Perenelle passed a medium sized box to her husband. He extracted a scroll of parchment and a book.

"I want you to have our house in Devon. Before you say no, we already exchanged the deed owner's name to you already. We will move back to France by the end of this week." Nicolas smiled like an old grandfather would smile towards his favorite grandson. Harry was dumbfounded. He owned a house?

"T-th-thanks, Mister Flamel. I don't know what to say…" Nicolas raised a hand, stopping Harry.

"That is not all. We also leave you a million Galleons to your name also."  
Harry couldn't hold himself and spoke. "That's too much. I know I am the fabled Boy-Who-Lived and everything, but I have enough money to last me a lifetime."

Harry stopped and thought about the presents and had a marvelous idea.

"Mister Flamel, may you turn the ownership of the residence to the Weasleys? I think they'll be in more need of a house than I do." Nicolas looked at his wife and she smiled and nodded.

"Sure, young man. You have a big heart. The ownership will be transferred to the Weasley clan before we leave Britain. At least use the money to buy your friends something good. Also, the last thing I want to give you is this." He showed Harry a big, leather bound book that said on the cover: " ** _Alchimia et scientia_** ".

"This book has all my studies in alchemy written down and I would like you to have this and treasure it." Harry nodded and said his thanks, leaving Dumbledore's office with the book and a happy face. He reached the Gryffindor Tower and dropped onto his bed, tired.


	24. Chapter 24 - Another Year Has Passed!

Chapter 24 – Another Year Has Passed!

* * *

Harry woke up abruptly. The End of Term Feast was already going to start. He ran down to the Great Hall as quick as his legs would let him. As he opened the door, he noticed the decorations. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts."

Dumbledore looked at the students in the Great Hall, with his eyes twinkling madly.

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with four hundred points; in third, Hufflepuff, with four hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has six hundred and twenty five and Slytherin, six hundred and eighty."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes... First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley..." Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with bad sunburn. "...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House eighty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second — to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House eighty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred and sixty points up.

"Third — to Mr. Andrew Rivers… for demonstrating traits worthy of all four Hogwarts houses: ambition to be the best, use the knowledge and wit to his favor, be a loyal friend and brave in the face of trouble, promoting House Unity and never letting his friends and comrades down, I award Ravenclaw house fifty points."

The Ravenclaw contingent roared in happiness. Gilbert, Joseph, Lauren, Cho, Marietta and Jeremiah were cheering the hardest. Cho kissed Andrew in the cheek and he blushed madly, his glasses tilted to the side.

"Fourth — to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore.

The room went deadly quiet. "...for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House one hundred points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy points. They had nearly tied for the House Cup — if only Dumbledore had given Harry just eleven more points.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. Even if the future looked grim, he went forward and was a valuable asset to his friends in the time of need. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The whole Great Hall stood in silence. Neville had tied them with Slytherin for the first place! Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating Gryffindor's tie with Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, half of the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Professor Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, both with a horrible, forced smile. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... he would never, ever forget tonight.

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his slightly abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Crabbe and Goyle, who were almost as stupid as they were mean, might be thrown out, but they had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life. Andrew had finally reached first place on nearly all of his classes except for History, who was beaten by Cho, surprisingly.

* * *

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "the three of you — I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to."

People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see "Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dears."

"Ready, are you?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

Nearby were the Rivers. Auror Rivers was with his wife and Tony, Andrew's younger son, hopping in excitement. Uncle Vernon shot a scared look towards them, whispering about _"…being fooled the whole time._ " Mrs. Weasley greeted the Rivers clan, her sons, Ginny, Harry and Hermione behind them. Andrew went and hugged his mother first, who was shedding tears of joy and then his father, who had a big grin on his face.

Then, Mrs. Weasley noticed the Dursleys nearby.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Harry hung back for a last word with Ron, Andrew and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have — er — a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "I'll have Andy and his family nearby in any emergency." He put an arm around Andrew's shoulder. "Besides, they don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..." Harry left by with his family towards Privet Drive.

The Rivers were at the exit of King's Cross, waiting for Andrew. His father's face had a stern look.

"Young man, you've got a lot of explaining to do." Anthony said in a serious tone.

Andrew gulped.

* * *

 **Author's Note: With this, it ends _Andrew Rivers and the Legend of the Stone_. I will be taking a break to start the next part of the fanfiction called: _Andrew Rivers and Slytherin's Secret_. Thanks to all the 78 people who have followed, the 46 that favorited the story and the 19 that reviewed the story to the very end. I will accept more reviews now that the story is complete, and if you want to give the story some recommendations, feel free to do.**

 **Thanks for your time!**  
 **- _KennyQ_**


	25. Author's Announcement - Part I

**EXTRA, EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!**

 **The new book of the Andrew Rivers saga is up!**

 **Go to my profile and look up for _Andrew Rivers and Slytherin's Secret_!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-KennyQ**


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